THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
FREDERIC  THOMAS  BLANCHARD 


MKI 


;OrlAUrU#^>  <s^t\t  UNlVtKi^         ^UJW 


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Nj\tUNIVfcKi> 


Or" 


"  Look  your  last  before  I  go  to  don  my 
fine  lady's  furbelows" 


—A  Lady  of  Quality 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

Being   a    most    curious,   hitherto    unknown 

history,  as  related  by  Mr.  Isaac  Bickerstaff 

but   not   presented    to   the  World  of 

Fashion    through     the     pages     of 

The   Taller,   and    now   for   the 

first    time   written    down 


BY 
FRANCES    HODGSON    BURNETT 


ILLUSTRA  TED 


P.  F.  COLLIER   &   SON 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright  1896  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


A  Lad?  <,f  Quality 


TS 


CONTENTS 

Were  Nature  just  to  Man  from  his  first  hour, 
he  need  not  ask  for  Mercy ;  then  'tis  for  us  — 
the  toys  of  Nature— to  be  both  just  and  merciful, 
for  so  only  can  the  wrongs  she  does  be  undone 


CHAPTER   I 

PAGE 

The  Twenty-fourth  Day  of  November  in  the  Year  1685        5 

CHAPTER   II 
In  which  Sir  Jeoffry  Encounters  his  Offspring  .     .     .       15 

CHAPTER   III 
Wherein  Sir  Jeoffry's  Boon  Companions  Drink  a  Toast      28 

CHAPTER   IV 

Lord  Twemlow's  Chaplain  Visits  his  Patron's  Kins- 
man, and  Mistress  Clorinda  Shines  on  her  Birthday 

I  VOL.  2 

688020 


2  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  V 

FACE 

"Not  I,"  she  said.     "There  thou  mayest  trust  me.     I 

would  not  be  found  out." 56 

CHAPTER   VI 
Relating  How  Mistress  Anne  Discovered  a  Miniature      70 

CHAPTER  VII 

Twas  the  Face  of  Sir  John  Oxon  the  Moon  Shone 

Upon 86 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Two  Meet  in  the  Deserted  Rose-garden,  and  the  Old 

Earl  of  Dunstanwolde  is  Made  a  Happy  Man     .      99 

CHAPTER  IX 

"I  give  to  him  the  thing  he  craves  with  all  his  soul — 

myself" 119 

CHAPTER  X 
"Yes— I  have  marked  him" 136 

CHAPTER   XI 
Wherein  a  Noble  Life  Comes  to  an  End 147 


CONTENTS  3 

CHAPTER   XII 

PAGE 

Which  Treats  of  the  Obsequies  of  my  Lord  of  Dun- 
stamvolde,  of  his  Lady's  Widowhood,  and  of  her 
Return  to  Town 158 

CHAPTER   XIII 
Wherein  a  Deadlv  War  Begins 168 

CHAPTER   XIV 

Containing  the  History  of  the  Breaking  of  the  Horse 
Devil,  and  Relates  the  Returning  of  his  Grace  of 
Osmonde  from  France 185 

CHAPTER   XV 

In  which  Sir  John  Oxon  Finds  Again  a  Trophy  he 

had  Lost 204 

CHAPTER   XVI 

Dealing  with  that  which   was   Done  in   the   Paneled 

Parlor 226 

CHAPTER   XVII 

Wherein  his  Grace  of  Osmonde's  Courier  Arrives  from 

France 237 

CHAPTER    XVIII 
My  Lady  Dunstanwolde  Sits  Late  Alone  and  Writes  .     253 


4  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XIX 

PACK 

A  Piteous  Story  is  Told,  and  the  Old  Cellars  Walled  In    260 

CHAPTER  XX 
A  Noble  Marriage 276 

CHAPTER   XXI 
An  Heir  is  Born  .  ,     286 


CHAPTER   XXII 
Mother  Anne 300 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

"In  One  who  will  do  justice,  and  demands  that  it  shall 
be  done  to  each  thing  He  has  made,  by  each  who 
bears  His  image" 307 

CHAPTER   XXIV 

The   Doves   Sat  upon    the   Window-ledge   and  lowly 

Cooed  and  Cooed 319 


A    LADY    OF    QUALITY 


CHAPTER    I 

THE    TWENTY-FOURTH    DAY    OF    NOVEMBER  *IN    THE 
YEAR  1685 

ON  a  wintry  morning  at  the  close  of  1685,  the  sun 
shining  faint  and  red  through  a  light  fog,  there  was  a 
great  noise  of  baying  dogs,  loud  voices,  and  trampling 
of  horses  in  the  courtyard  at  Wildairs  Hall.  Sir  Jeof- 
fry,  being  about  to  go  forth  a-hunting,  and  being  a 
man  with  a  choleric  temper  and  big  loud  voice,  and 
given  to  oaths  and  noise  even  when  in  good  humor, 
his  riding  forth  with  his  friends  at  any  time  was  at- 
tended with  boisterous  commotion.  This  morning  it 
was  more  so  than  usual,  for  he  had  guests  with  him 
who  had  come  to  his  house  the  day  before  and  had 
supped  late  and  drunk  deeply,  whereby  the  day  found 
them,  some  with  headaches,  some  with  a  nausea  at 
their  stomachs,  and  some  only  in  an  evil  humor  which 
made  them  curse  at  their  horses  when  they  were  rest- 
less, and  break  into  loud  surly  laughs  when  a  coarse 

5 


6  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

joke  was  made.  There  were  many  such  jokes,  Sir 
Jeoffry  and  his  boon  companions  being  renowned 
throughout  the  county  for  the  freedom  of  their  con- 
versation as  well  as  for  the  scandal  of  their  pastimes, 
and  this  day  it  was  well  indeed,  as  their  loud-voiced, 
oath-besprinkled  jests  rang  out  on  the  cold  air,  that 
there  were  no  ladies  about  to  ride  forth  with  them. 

'Twas  Sir  Jeoffry  who  was  louder  than  any  other, 
he  having  drunk  even  deeper  than  the  rest,  and 
though  'twas  his  boast  that  he  could  carry  a  bottle 
more  than  any  man  and  see  all  his  guests  under  the 
table,  his  last  night's  bout  had  left  him  in  ill-humor 
and  boisterous.  He  strode  about,  casting  oaths  at  the 
dogs  and  rating  the  servants,  and  when  he  mounted 
his  black  horse  Rake  'twas  amid  such  a  clamor  of 
voices  and  baying  hounds  that  the  place  was  like 
pandemonium. 

He  was  a  large  man  of  florid  good  looks,  black  eyes 
and  full  habit  of  body,  and  had  been  much  renowned 
in  his  youth  for  his  great  strength,  which  was  indeed 
almost  that  of  a  giant,  and  for  his  deeds  of  prowess 
in  the  saddle  and  at  the  table  when  the  bottle  went 
round.  There  were  many  evil  stories  of  his  roister- 
ings, but  it  was  not  his  way  to  think  of  them  as  evil, 
but  rather  to  his  credit  as  a  man  of  the  world,  for 
when  he  heard  that  they  were  gossiped  about,  he 
greeted  the  information  with  a  loud,  triumphant 
laugh.  He  had  married,  when  she  was  fifteen,  the 
blooming  toast  of  the  county,  for  whom  his  passion 
had  long  died  out,  having  indeed  departed  with  the 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  7 

honeymoon,  which  had  been  of  the  briefest,  and  after- 
ward he  having  borne  her  a  grudge  for  what  he  chose 
to  consider  her  undutiful  conduct.  This  grudge  was 
founded  on  the  fact  that  though  she  had  presented 
him  each  year  since  their  marriage  with  a  child,  after 
nine  years  had  passed  none  had  yet  been  sons,  and  as 
he  was  bitterly  at  odds  with  his  next  of  kin,  he  con- 
sidered each  of  his  offspring  an  ill  turn  done  him. 

He  spent  but  little  time  in  her  society,  for  she  was 
a  poor,  gentle  creature  of  no  spirit,  who  found  little 
happiness  in  her  lot,  since  her  lord  treated  her  with 
scant  civility,  and  her  children  one  after  another  sick- 
ened and  died  in  their  infancy  until  but  two  were  left. 
He  scarce  remembered  her  existence  when  he  did  not 
see  her  face,  and  he  was  certainly  not  thinking  of  her 
this  morning,  having  other  things  in  view,  and  yet  it 
so  fell  out  that  while  a  groom  was  shortening  a  stir- 
rup and  being  sworn  at  for  his  awkwardness,  he  by 
accident  cast  his  eye  upward  to  a  chamber  window 
peering  out  of  the  thick  ivy  on  the  stone.  Doing  so 
he  saw  an  oldish  woman  draw  back  the  curtain  and 
look  down  upon  him  as  if  searching  for  him  with  a 
purpose. 

He  uttered  an  exclamation  of  anger. 

"Damnation,  Mother  Posset  again,"  he  said.  "What 
does  she  there,  old  frump?" 

The  curtain  fell  and  the  woman  disappeared,  and  in 
but  a  few  minutes  more  an  unheard-of  thing  happened 
— among  the  servants  in  the  hall  the  same  old  woman 
appeared  making  her  way  with  a  hurried  fretfulness, 


8  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

and  she  descended  haltingly  the  stone  steps  and  came 
to  his  side  where  he  sat  on  his  black  horse. 

"The  devil!"  he  exclaimed;  "what  are  you  here 
for?  'Tis  not  time  for  another  wench  upstairs, 
surely." 

"  'Tis  not  time,"  answered  the  old  nurse  acidly,  tak- 
ing her  tone  from  his  own.  "But  there  is  one  but  an 
hour  old,  and  my  lady — " 

"Be  damned  to  her!"  quoth  Sir  Jeoffry,  savagely. 
"A  ninth  one — and  'tis  nine  too  many.  'Tis  more 
than  man  can  bear.  She  does  it  but  to  spite  me." 

"  'Tis  ill  treatment  for  a  gentleman  who  wants  an 
heir,"  the  old  woman  answered,  as  disrespectful  of  his 
spouse  as  he  was,  being  a  time-serving  crone  and 
knowing  that  it  paid  but  poorly  to  coddle  women  who 
did  not  as  their  husbands  would  have  them,  in  the  way 
of  offspring.  "It  should  have  been  a  fine  boy — but  it 
is  not,  and  my  lady — " 

"Damn  her  puling  tricks,"  said  Sir  Jeoffry  again, 
pulling  at  his  horse's  bit  until  the  beast  reared. 

"She  would  not  let  me  rest  until  I  came  to  you," 
said  the  nurse,  resentfully.  "She  would  have  you  told 
that  she  felt  strangely  and  before  you  went  forth 
would  have  a  word  with  you." 

"I  can  not  come,  and  am  not  in  the  mood  for  it  if  I 
could,"  was  his  answer.  "What  folly  does  she  give 
way  to  ?  This  is  the  ninth  time  she  hath  felt  strangely, 
and  I  have  felt  as  squeamish  as  she — but  nine  is  more 
than  I  have  patience  for." 

"She    is   light-headed,    mayhap,"    said   the   nurse. 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  9 

"She  lies  huddled  in  a  heap  staring  and  muttering — 
and  she  would  leave  me  no  peace  till  I  promised  to 
say  to  you  'for  the  sake  of  poor  little  Daphne  whom 
you  will  sure  remember/  She  pinched  my  hand  and 
said  it  again  and  again." 

Sir  Jeoffry  dragged  at  his  horse's  mouth  and  swore 
again. 

"She  was  fifteen  then  and  had  not  given  me  nine 
yellow-faced  wenches,"  he  said.  "Tell  her  I  had  gone 
a-hunting  and  you  were  too  late."  And  he  struck  his 
big  black  beast  with  the  whip  and  it  bounded  away 
with  him,  hounds  and  huntsmen  and  fellow  roisterers 
galloping  after,  his  guests,  who  had  caught  at  the 
reason  of  his  wrath,  grinning  as  they  rode. 

In  a  huge  chamber  hung  with  tattered  tapestries, 
and  barely  set  forth  with  cumbersome  pieces  of  fur- 
nishing, my  lady  lay  in  a  gloomy  canopied  bed  with 
her  new-born  child  at  her  side,  but  not  looking  at  or 
touching  it,  seeming  rather  to  have  withdrawn  her- 
self from  the  pillow  on  which  it  lay  in  its  swaddling 
clothes. 

She  was  but  a  little  lady,  and  now,  as  she  lay  in  the 
large  bed,  her  face  and  form  shrunken  and  drawn  with 
suffering,  she  looked  scarce  bigger  than  a  child.  In 
the  brief  days  of  her  happiness  those  who  toasted  her 
had  called  her  Titania  for  her  fairy  slightness  and 
delicate  beauty,  but  then  her  fair,  wavy  locks  had  been 
of  a  length  that  touched  the  ground  when  her  woman 
unbound  them,  and  she  had  had  the  color  of  a  wild 


io  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

rose  and  the  eyes  of  a  tender  little  fawn.  Sir  Jeoffry, 
for  a  month  or  so,  had  paid  tempestuous  court  to  her, 
and  had  so  won  her  heart  with  his  dashing  way  of 
love-making,  and  the  daringness  of  his  reputation, 
that  she  had  thought  herself — being  child  enough  to 
think  so — the  luckiest  young  lady  in  the  world  that 
his  black  eye  should  have  fallen  upon  her  with  favor. 
Each  year  since,  with  the  bearing  of  each  child,  she 
had  lost  some  of  her  beauty.  With  each  one  her 
lovely  hair  fell  out  still  more,  her  wild-rose  color 
faded,  and  her  shape  was  spoiled.  She  grew  thin  and 
yellow,  only  a  scant  covering  of  the  fair  hair  was 
left  her,  and  her  eyes  were  big  and  sunken.  Her  mar- 
riage having  displeased  her  family,  and  Sir  Jeoffry 
having  a  distaste  for  the  ceremonies  of  visiting  and 
entertainment,  save  where  his  own  cronies  were  con- 
cerned, she  had  no  friends  and  grew  lonelier  and 
lonelier  as  the  sad  years  went  by.  She  being  so  with- 
out hope,  and  her  life  so  dreary,  her  children  were 
neither  strong  nor  beautiful  and  died  quickly,  each 
one  bringing  her  only  the  anguish  of  birth  and  death. 
This  wintry  morning  her  ninth  lay  slumbering  by  her 
side ;  the  noise  of  baying  dogs  and  boisterous  men  had 
died  away  with  the  last  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs ;  the 
little  light  which  came  into  the  room  through  the  ivied 
window  was  a  faint  yellowish  red.  She  was  cold,  be- 
cause the  fire  in  the  chimney  was  but  a  scant,  failing 
one.  She  was  alone,  and  she  knew  that  the  time  had 
come  for  her  death;  this  she  knew  full  well. 

She  was  alone,  because  being  so  disrespected  and 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  11 

deserted  by  her  lord,  and  being  of  a  timid,  and  gentle 
nature,  she  could  not  command  her  insufficient  retinue 
of  servants,  and  none  served  her  as  was  their  duty. 
The  old  woman  Sir  Jeoffry  had  dubbed  Mother  Posset 
had  been  her  sole  attendant  at  such  times  as  these 
for  the  past  five  years,  because  she  would  come  to  her 
for  a  less  fee  than  a  better  woman,  and  Sir  Jeoffry 
had  sworn  he  would  not  pay  for  wenches  being 
brought  into  the  world.  She  was  a  slovenly,  guz- 
zling old  crone,  who  drank  caudle  from  morning  till 
night,  and  demanded  good  living  as  a  support  dur- 
ing the  performance  of  her  trying  duties,  but  these 
last  she  contrived  to  make  wondrous  light,  knowing 
that  there  was  none  to  reprove  her. 

"A  fine  night  I  have  had,"  she  had  grumbled,  when 
she  brought  back  Sir  Jeoffry's  answer  to  her  lady's 
message.  "My  old  bones  are  like  to  break,  and  my 
back  will  not  straighten  itself.  I  will  go  to  the  kitchen 
to  get  victuals  and  somewhat  to  warm  me ;  your  lady- 
ship's own  woman  shall  sit  with  you." 

Her  ladyship's  "own  woman"  was  also  the  sole  at- 
tendant of  the  two  little  girls,  Barbara  and  Anne, 
whose  nursery  was  in  another  wing  of  the  house,  and 
my  lady  knew  full  well  she  would  not  come  if  she  were 
told,  and  that  there  would  be  no  message  sent  to  her. 

She  knew,  too,  that  the  fire  was  going  out,  but 
though  she  shivered  under  the  bedclothes,  she  was  too 
weak  to  call  the  woman  back  when  she  saw  her  de- 
part without  putting  fresh  fuel  upon  it. 

So  she  lay  alone,  poor  lady,  and  there  was  no  sound 


12  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

about  her,  and  her  thin  little  mouth  began  to  feebly 
quiver,  and  her  great  eyes,  which  stared  at  the  hang- 
ings, to  fill  with  slow,  cold  tears,  for,  in  sooth,  they 
were  not  warm,  but  seemed  to  chill  her  poor  cheeks 
as  they  rolled  slowly  down  them,  leaving  a  wet  streak 
behind  them,  which  she  was  too  far  gone  in  weakness 
to  attempt  to  lift  her  hand  to  wipe  away. 

"Nine  times  like  this,"  she  panted  faintly,  "and  'tis 
for  naught  but  oaths  and  hard  words  that  blame  me. 
When  'twas  'My  Daphne/  and  'My  beauteous  little 
Daphne,'  he  loved  me  in  his  own  man's  way.  But 
now — "  She  faintly  rolled  her  head  from  side  to 
side.  "Women  are  poor  things,"  a  chill  salt  tear 
sliding  past  her  lips  so  that  she  tasted  its  bitterness, 
"only  to  be  kissed  for  an  hour — and  then  like  this — 
only  for  this  and  nothing  else.  I  would  that  this  one 
had  been  dead." 

Her  breath  came  slower  and  more  pantingly  and 
her  eyes  stared  more  widely. 

"I  was  but  a  child,"  she  whispered,  "a  child — as — 
as  this  will  be — if  she  lives  fifteen  years." 

Despite  her  weakness,  and  it  was  great  and  wofully 
increasing,  with  each  panting  breath,  she  slowly  la- 
bored to  turn  herself  toward  the  pillow  on  which  her 
offspring  lay,  and  this  done,  she  lay  staring  at  the 
child  and  gasping,  her  thin  chest  rising  and  falling 
convulsively.  Ah,  how  she  panted  and  how  she  stared, 
the  glaze  of  death  stealing  slowly  over  her  wide- 
opened  eyes.  And  yet  dimming  as  they  were,  they 
saw  in  the  sleeping  infant  a  strange  and  troublous 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  13 

thing.  Though  it  was  but  a  few  hours  old,  'twas  not 
as  red  and  crumple  visaged  as  new-born  infants  usu- 
ally are;  its  little  head  was  covered  with  thick  black 
silk  and  its  small  features  were  of  singular  definite- 
ness.  She  dragged  herself  nearer  to  gaze. 

"She  looks  not  like  the  others,"  she  said.  "They 
had  no  beauty — and  are  safe.  She — she  will  be  like 
— Jeoffry — and  like  me." 

The  dying  fire  fell  lower  with  a  shuddering  sound. 

"If  she  is — beautiful  and  has  but  her  father,  and  no 
mother!"  she  whispered,  the  words  dragged  forth 
slowly,  "only  evil  can  come  to  her.  From  her  first 
hour — she  will  know  naught  else,  poor  heart,  poor 
heart!" 

There  was  a  rattling  in  her  throat  as  she  breathed, 
but  in  her  glazing  eyes  a  gleamlike  passion  leaped,  and 
gasping  she  dragged  nearer. 

"Tis  not  fair,"  she  cried.  "If  I— if  I  could 
lay  my  hand  upon  thy  mouth — and  stop  thy  breath- 
ing— thou  poor  thing,  'twould  be  fairer — but — I  have 
no  strength." 

She  gathered  all  her  dying  will  and  brought  her 
hand  up  to  the  infant's  mouth.  A  wild  look  was  on 
her  poor  small  face,  she  panted  and  fell  forward  on 
its  breast,  the  rattle  in  her  throat  growing  louder.  The 
child  awakened,  opening  great  black  eyes,  and  with  her 
dying  weakness  its  new-born  life  struggled.  Her  cold 
hand  lay  upon  its  mouth  and  her  head  upon  its  body, 
for  she  was  too  far  gone  to  move  if  she  had  willed  to 
do  so — but  the  tiny  creature's  strength  was  marvelous. 


i4  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

It  gasped,  it  fought,  its  little  limbs  struggled  beneath 
her,  it  writhed  until  the  cold  hand  fell  away,  and  then, 
its  baby  mouth  set  free,  it  fell  a-shrieking.  Its  cries 
.were  not  like  those  of  a  new-born  thing,  but  fierce 
and  shrill,  and  even  held  the  sound  of  infant  passion. 
'Twas  not  a  thing  to  let  its  life  *o  easily,  'twas  of 
those  born  to  do  battle. 

Its  lusty  shrieking  pierced  Her  ear  perhaps — she 
drew  a  long  slow  breath — and  tHen  another  and  an- 
other still — the  last  one  trembled  and  stopped  short, 
and  the  last  cinder  fell  dead  from  the  fire. 

When  the  nurse  came  bustling  and  fretting  bade 
the  chamber  was  cold  as  the  grave's  self,  there  were 
only  dead  embers  on  the  hearth,  the  new-born  child's 
cries  filled  all  the  desolate  air — and  my  lady  was  lying 
stone  dead,  her  poor  head  resting  on  her  offspring's 
feet  and  her  open  glazed  eyes  seemed  to  stare  at  it 
as  if  in  asking  Fate  some  awful  question. 


CHAPTER   II 

IN  WHICH  SIR  JEOFFRY  ENCOUNTERS  HIS  OFFSPRING 

IN  a  remote  wing  of  the  house,  in  barren  ill-kept 
rooms,  the  poor  infants  of  the  dead  lady  had  struggled 
through  their  brief  lives  and  given  them  up,  one  after 
the  other.  Sir  Jeoffry  had  not  wished  to  see  them  nor 
had  he  done  so;  but  upon  the  rarest  occasions  and 
then  nearly  always  by  some  untoward  accident.  The 
six  who  had  died,  even  their  mother  had  scarcely  wept 
for ;  her  weeping  had  been  that  they  should  have  been 
fated  to  come  into  the  world,  and  when  they  went  out 
of  it  she  knew  she  need  not  mourn  their  going  as  un- 
timely. The  two  who  had  not  perished,  she  had  re- 
garded sadly  day  by  day,  seeing  they  had  no  beauty 
and  that  their  faces  promised  none.  Naught  but  great 
beauty  would  have  excused  their  existence  in  their 
father's  eyes,  as  beauty  might  have  helped  them  to 
good  matches  which  would  have  rid  him  of  them.  But 
'twas  the  sad  ill-fortune  of  the  children  Anne  and 
Barbara  to  have  been  treated  by  Nature  in  a  way  but 
niggardly.  They  were  pale  young  misses  with  insig- 
nificant faces  and  snub  noses,  resembling  a  poor  aunt 
who  had  died  a  spinster  as  they  themselves  seemed 

IS 


1 6  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

most  likely  to  do.  Sir  Jeoffry  could  not  bear  the  sight 
of  them,  and  they  fled  at  the  sound  of  his  footsteps, 
if  it  so  happened  that  by  chance  they  heard  it,  hud- 
dling together  in  corners  and  slinking  behind  doors  or 
anything  big  enough  to  hide  them.  They  had  no  play- 
things and  no  companions  and  no  pleasures  but  such 
as  the  innocent  invention  of  childhood  contrives  for 
itself. 

After  their  mother's  death,  a  youth  desolate  and 
strange  indeed  lay  before  them.  A  spinster  who  was 
a  poor  relation  was  the  only  person  of  respectable 
breeding  who  ever  came  near  them.  To  save  herself 
from  genteel  starvation  she  had  offered  herself  for  the 
place  of  governess  to  them,  though  she  was  fitted  for 
the  position  neither  by  education  nor  character.  Mis- 
tress Margery  Wimpole  was  a  poor  dull  creature,  hav- 
ing no  wilful  harm  in  her,  but  endowed  with  neither 
dignity  nor  wit.  She  lived  in  fear  of  Sir  Jeoffry,  and 
in  fear  of  the  servants,  who  knew  full  well  that  she 
was  an  humble  dependent  and  treated  her  as  one.  She 
hid  away  with  her  pupils  in  the  bare  schoolroom  in  the 
west  wing,  and  taught  them  to  spell  and  write  and 
work  samplers.  She  herself  knew  no  more. 

The  child  who  had  cost  her  mother  her  life  had  no 
happier  prospect  than  her  sisters.  Her  father  felt  her 
more  an  intruder  than  they  had  been,  he  being  of  the 
mind  that  to  house  and  feed  and  clothe,  howsoever 
poorly,  these  three  burdens  on  him  was  a  drain 
scarcely  to  be  borne.  His  wife  had  been  a  toast  and 
not  a  fortune,  and  his  estate  not  being  great,  he  pos- 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  17 

sessed  no  more  than  his  drinking,  roistering,  and  gam- 
bling made  full  demands  upon. 

The  child  was  baptized  Clorinda,  and  bred,  so  to 
speak,  from  her  first  hour/  in  the  garret  and  the  ser- 
vants' hall.  Once  only  did  her  father  behold  her 
during  her  infancy,  which  event  was  a  mere  accident, 
as  he  had  expressed  no  wish  to  see  her,  and  only  came 
upon  her  in  the  nurse's  arms  some  weeks  after  her 
mother's  death.  'Twas  quite  by  chance.  The  woman, 
who  was  young  and  buxom,  had  begun  an  intrigue 
with  a  groom,  and,  having  a  mind  to  see  him,  was 
crossing  the  stable-yard,  carrying  her  charge  with  her, 
when  Sir  Jeoffry  came  by  to  visit  a  horse. 

The  woman  came  plump  upon  him,  entering  a  stable 
as  he  came  out  of  it;  she  gave  a  frightened  start  and 
almost  let  the  child  drop,  at  which  it  set  up  a  strong 
shrill  cry,  and  thus  Sir  Jeoffry  saw  it,  and  seeing  it, 
was  thrown  at  once  into  a  passion  which  expressed 
itself  after  the  manner  of  all  his  emotions,  and  left  the 
nurse  quaking  with  fear. 

"Thunder  and  damnation!"  he  exclaimed  as  he 
strode  away  after  the  encounter,  "  'tis  the  ugliest  yet. 
A  yellow-faced  girl  brat  with  eyes  like  an  owl's  in 
an  ivy-bush,  and  with  a  voice  like  a  very  peacock's. 
Another  mawking,  plain  slut  that  no  man  will  take  off 
my  hands." 

He  did  not  see  her  again  for  six  years.  But  little 
wit  was  needed  to  learn  that  'twas  best  to  keep  her  out 
of  his  sight  as  her  sisters  were  kept,  and  this  was  done 
without  difficulty,  as  he  avoided  the  wing  of  the  house 


1 8  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

where  the  children  lived,  as  if  it  were  stricken  with 
the  plague. 

But  the  child  Clorinda,  it  seemed,  was  of  lustier 
stock  than  her  older  sisters,  and  this  those  about  her 
soon  found  out  to  their  grievous  disturbance.  When 
Mother  Posset  had  drawn  her  from  under  her  dead 
mother's  body  she  had  not  left  shrieking  for  an  hour, 
but  had  kept  up  her  fierce  cries  until  the  roof  rang 
with  them,  and  the  old  woman  had  jigged  Her  about 
and  beat  her  back  in  the  hopes  of  stilling  her,  until 
she  was  exhausted  and  dismayed.  For  the  child  would 
not  be  stilled,  and  seemed  to  have  such  strength  and 
persistence  in  her  as  surely  infant  never  showed  before. 

"Never  saw  I  such  a  brat  among  all  I  have  brought 
into  the  world,"  Old  Posset  quavered.  "She  hath  the 
voice  of  a  six  months'  boy.  It  cracks  my  very  ears. 
Hush  thee  then,  thou  little  wildcat." 

This  was  but  the  beginning.  From  the  first  she 
grew  apace,  and  in  a  few  months  was  a  bouncing  in- 
fant with  a  strong  back  and  a  power  to  make  herself 
heard,  such  as  had  not  before  appeared  in  the  family. 
When  she  desired  a  thing,  she  yelled  and  roared  with 
such  a  vigor  as  left  no  peace  for  any  creature  about 
her  until  she  was  humored,  and  this  being  the  case, 
rather  than  have  their  conversation  and  love-making 
put  a  stop  to,  the  servants  gave  her  her  way.  In  this 
they  but  followed  the  example  of  their  betters,  of 
whom  we  know  that  it  is  not  to  the  most  virtuous  they 
submit,  or  to  the  most  learned,  but  to  those  who,  being 
crossed,  can  conduct  themselves  in  a  manner  so  dis- 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  19 

agreeable,  shrewish,  or  violent,  that  life  is  a  burden 
until  they  have  their  will.  This  the  child  Clorinda 
had  the  infant  wit  to  discover  early,  and  having  once 
discovered  it,  she  never  ceased  to  take  advantage  of 
her  knowledge.  Having  found,  in  the  days  when  her 
one  desire  was  pap,  that  she  had  but  to  roar  lustily 
enough  to  find  it  beside  her  in  her  porringer,  she  tried 
the  game  upon  all  other  occasions.  When  she  had 
reached  but  a  twelvemonth,  she  stood  stoutly  upon  her 
little  feet  and  beat  her  sisters  to  gain  their  playthings, 
and  her  nurse  for  wanting  to  change  her  smock.  She 
was  so  easily  thrown  into  furies,  and  so  raged  and 
stamped  in  her  baby  way,  that  she  was  a  sight  to  be- 
hold, and  the  men-servants  found  amusement  in  badg- 
ering her.  To  set  Mistress  Clorinda  in  their  midst 
on  a  winter's  night,  when  they  were  dull,  and  to 
torment  her  until  her  little  face  grew  scarlet  with 
,the  blood  which  flew  up  into  it,  and  she  ran  from 
one  to  the  other  beating  them  and  screaming  like 
a  young  spitfire,  was  among  them  a  favorite  enter- 
tainment. 

"Ifackens!"  said  the  butler  one  night,  "but  she  is 
as  like  Sir  Jeoffry  in  her  temper  as  one  pea  is  like  an- 
other. Ay,  but  she  grows  blood-red,  just  as  he  does, 
and  curses  in  her  little  way  as  he  does  in  man's  words 
among  his  hounds  in  their  kennel/' 

"And  she  will  be  of  his  build,  too,"  said  the  house- 
keeper. "What  a  mishap  changed  her  to  a  maid  in- 
stead of  a  boy,  I  know  not.  She  would  have  made  a 
strapping  heir.  She  has  the  thigh  and  shoulders  of 


20  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

a  handsome  man-child  at  this  hour,  and  she  is  not 
three  years  old." 

"Sir  Jeoffry  missed  his  mark  when  he  called  her  an 
ugly  brat,"  said  the  woman  who  had  nursed  her.  "She 
will  be  a  handsome  woman,  though  large  in  build  it 
may  be.  She  will  be  a  brown  beauty,  but  she  will  have 
a  color  in  her  cheeks  and  lips  like  the  red  of  Christmas 
holly,  and  her  owl's  eyes  are  as  black  as  sloes  and  have 
fringes  on  them  like  the  curtains  of  a  window.  See 
how  her  hair  grows  thick  on  her  little  head  and  how 
it  curls  in  great  rings.  My  lady,  her  poor  mother,  was 
once  a  beauty,  but  she  was  no  such  beauty  as  this  one 
will  be,  for  she  has  her  father's  long  limbs  and  fine 
shoulders,  and  the  will  to  make  every  man  look  her 
way." 

"Yes,"  said  the  housekeeper,  who  was  an  elderly 
woman,  "there  will  be  doings — there  will  be  doings 
when  she  is  a  ripe  young  maid.  She  will  take  her 
way,  and  God  grant  she  mayn't  be  too  like  her  father 
and  follow  his." 

It  was  true  that  she  had  no  resemblance  to  her  plain 
sisters,  and  bore  no  likeness  to  them  in  character.  The 
two  elder  children,  Anne  and  Barbara,  were  too  meek- 
spirited  to  be  troublesome,  but  during  Clorinda's  in- 
fancy Mistress  Margery  Wimpole  watched  her  rapid 
growth  with  fear  and  qualms.  She  dare  not  reprove 
the  servants  who  were  ruining  her  by  their  treatment, 
and  whose  manners  were  forming  her  own.  Sir  Jeof- 
fry's  servants  were  no  more  moral  than  their  master, 
and  being  brought  up  as  she  was  among  them,  their 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  21 

young  mistress  became  strangely  familiar  with  many 
sights  and  sounds  it  is  not  the  fortune  of  most  young 
misses  of  breeding  to  see  and  hear.  The  cooks  and 
kitchen  wenches  were  flighty  with  the  grooms  and 
men-servants,  and  little  Mistress  Clorinda  having  a 
passion  for  horses  and  dogs  spent  many  an  hour  in  the 
stables  with  the  women  who,  for  reasons  of  their 
own,  were  pleased  enough  to  take  her  there  as  an 
excuse  for  seeking  amusement  for  themselves.  She 
played  in  the  kennels  and  among  the  horses'  heels  and 
learned  to  use  oaths  as  roundly  as  any  Giles  or  Tom 
whose  work  was  to  wield  the  currycomb.  It  was  in- 
deed a  curious  thing  to  hear  her  red  baby  mouth  pour 
forth  curses  and  unseemly  words  as  she  would  at  any 
one  who  crossed  her.  Her  temper  and  hot-headedness 
carried  all  before  them,  and  the  grooms  and  stable- 
boys  found  great  sport  in  the  language  my  young  lady 
used  in  her  innocent  furies.  But  balk  her  in  a  whim 
and  she  would  pour  forth  the  eloquence  of  a  fish-wife 
at  Billingsgate  or  a  lady  of  easy  virtue  in  a  pot-house 
quarrel.  There  was  no  human  creature  near  her  who 
had  mind  or  heart  enough  to  see  the  awfulness  of  her 
condition,  or  to  strive  to  teach  her  to  check  her  pas- 
sions, and  in  the  midst  of  these  perilous  surroundings 
the  little  virago  grew  handsomer  and  of  finer  carriage 
every  hour,  as  if  on  the  rank  diet  that  fed  her  she 
throve  and  flourished. 

There  came  a  day  at  last  when  she  had  reached  six 
years  old,  when  by  a  trick  of  chance  a  turn  was  given 
to  the  wheel  of  her  Fate. 


22  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

She  had  not  reached  three  when  a  groom  first  set 
her  on  a  horse's  back  and  led  her  about  the  stable- 
yard,  and  she  had  so  delighted  in  her  exalted  position 
and  had  so  shouted  for  pleasure  and  clutched  her 
steed's  rein  and  clucked  at  him,  that  her  audience  had 
looked  on  with  roars  of  laughter.  From  that  time  she 
would  be  put  up  every  day,  and  as  time  went  on 
showed  such  unchildish  courage  and  spirit  that  she 
furnished  to  her  servant  companions  a  new  pastime. 
Soon  she  would  not  be  held  on,  but,  riding  astride  like 
a  boy,  would  sit  up  as  straight  as  a  man  and  swear  at 
her  horse,  beating  him  with  her  heels  and  little  fists, 
if  his  pace  did  not  suit  her.  She  knew  no  fear  and 
would  have  used  a  whip  so  readily  that  the  men  did 
not  dare  to  trust  her  with  one,  and  knew  they  must 
not  mount  her  on  a  steed  too  mettlesome.  By  the 
time  she  passed  her  sixth  birthday,  she  could  ride  as 
well  as  a  grown  man,  and  was  as  familiar  with  her 
father's  horses  as  he  himself,  though  he  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  matter,  it  being  always  contrived  that  she 
should  be  out  of  sight  when  he  visited  his  hunters. 

It  so  chanced  that  the  horse  he  rode  the  oftenest 
was  her  favorite,  and  many  were  the  tempests  of  rage 
she  fell  into  when  she  went  to  the  stable  to  play  with 
the  animal  and  did  not  find  him  in  his  stall  because 
his  master  had  ordered  him  out.  At  such  times  she 
would  storm  at  the  men  in  the  stable-yard  and  call 
them  ill  names  for  their  impudence  in  letting  the  beast 
go,  which  would  cause  them  great  merriment,  as  she 
knew  nothing  of  who  the  man  was  who  had  balked 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  23 

her,  since  she  was  in  truth  not  so  much  as  conscious 
of  her  father's  existence,  never  having  seen  or  even 
heard  more  of  him  than  his  name,  which  she  in  no 
manner  connected  with  herself. 

"Could  Sir  Jeoffry  himself  but  once  see  and  hear 
her  when  she  storms  at  us  and  him  because  he  dares 
to  ride  his  own  beast,"  one  of  the  older  men  said  once 
in  the  midst  of  their  laughter,  "I  swear  he  would  burst 
forth  laughing  and  be  taken  with  her  impudent  spirit, 
her  temper  is  so  like  his  own.  She  is  his  own  flesH 
and  blood,  and  as  full  of  hell-fire  as  he." 

Upon  this  morning  which  proved  eventful  to  her, 
she  had  gone  to  the  stables  as  was  her  daily  custom, 
and  going  into  the  stall  where  the  big  black  horse  was 
wont  to  stand  she  found  it  empty.  Her  spirit  rose 
hot  within  her  in  a  moment.  She  clenched  her  fists 
and  began  to  stamp  and  swear  in  such  a  manner  as  it 
would  be  scarce  fitting  to  record. 

"Where  is  he  now?"  she  cried.  "He  is  my  own 
horse  and  shall  not  be  ridden.  Who  is  the  man  who 
takes  him?  Who?  Who?" 

"  'Tis  a  fellow  who  hath  no  manners,"  said  the  man 
she  stormed  at,  grinning  and  thrusting  his  tongue  in 
his  cheek.  "He  says  'tis  his  beast  and  not  yours,  and 
he  will  have  him  when  he  chooses." 

"  'Tis  not  his — 'tis  mine !"  shrieked  Miss,  her  little 
face  inflamed  with  passion.  "I  will  kill  him !  'Tis  my 
horse.  He  shall  be  mine!" 

For  a  while  the  men  tormented  her  to  hear  her  rave 
and  see  her  passion,  for  in  truth  the  greater  tempest 


24  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

she  was  in,  the  better  she  was  worth  beholding,  hav- 
ing a  color  so  rich  and  eyes  so  great  and  black  and 
flaming.  At  such  times  there  was  naught  of  the  femi- 
nine in  her,  and  indeed  always  she  looked  more  like  a 
handsome  boy  than  a  girl,  her  growth  being,  for  her 
age,  extraordinary.  At  length  a  lad  who  was  a  helper 
said,  to  mock  her: 

"The  man  hath  him  at  the  door  before  the  great 
steps  now.  I  saw  him  stand  there  waiting  but  a  mo- 
ment ago.  The  man  hath  gone  in  the  house." 

She  turned  and  ran  to  find  him.  The  front  part  of 
the  house  she  barely  knew  the  outside  of,  as  she  was 
kept  safely  in  the  west  wing  and  below  stairs,  and  when 
taken  out  for  the  air  was  always  led  privately  by  a 
side  way,  never  passing  through  the  great  hall  where 
her  father  might  chance  to  encounter  her. 

She  knew  best  this  side  entrance  and  made  her  way 
to  it,  meaning  to  search  until  she  found  the  front. 
She  got  into  the  house,  and  her  spirit  being  roused, 
marched  boldly  through  corridors  and  into  rooms  she 
had  never  seen  before,  and  being  so  mere  a  child  not- 
withstanding her  strange  wilfulness  and  daring,  the 
novelty  of  the  things  she  saw  so  far  distracted  her 
mind  from  the  cause  of  her  anger  that  she  stopped 
more  than  once  to  stare  up  at  a  portrait  on  a  wall,  or 
to  take  in  her  hand  something  she  was  curious  con- 
cerning. 

When  she  at  last  reached  the  entrance-hall,  coming 
into  it  through  a  door  she  pushed  open,  using  all  he'r 
childish  strength,  she  stood  in  the  midst  of  it  and 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  25 

gazed  about  her  with  a  new  curiosity  and  pleasure.  It 
was  a  fine  place  with  antlers  and  arms  and  foxes' 
brushes  hung  upon  the  walls,  and  with  carved  panels 
of  black  oak  and  oaken  floor  and  furnishings.  All  in 
it  was  disorderly  and  showed  rough  usage,  but  once 
it  had  been  a  notable  feature  of  the  house,  and  well 
worth  better  care  than  had  been  bestowed  upon  it 
She  discovered  on  the  walls  many  trophies  that  at- 
tracted her,  but  these  she  could  not  reach  and  could 
only  gaze  and  wonder  at,  but  on  an  oaken  settle  she 
found  some  things  she  could  lay  hands  on  and  forth- 
with seized  and  sat  down  upon  the  floor  to  play  with 
them.  One  of  them  was  a  hunting  crop,  which  she 
brandished  grandly,  until  she  was  more  taken  with  a 
powder  flask  which  it  so  happened  her  father,  Sir 
Jeoffry,  had  laid  down  but  a  few  minutes  before,  in 
passing  through.  He  was  going  forth,  coursing,  and 
had  stepped  into  the  dining-hall  to  toss  off  a  bumper 
of  brandy. 

When  he  had  helped  himself  from  the  buffet  and 
came  back  in  haste,  the  first  thing  he  clapped  eyes  on 
was  his  offspring  pouring  forth  the  powder  from  the 
flask  upon  the  oaken  floor.  He  had  never  seen  her 
since  that  first  occasion  after  the  unfortunate  incident 
of  her  birth,  and  beholding  a  child  wasting  his  good 
powder  at  the  moment  he  most  wanted  it,  and  had  no 
time  to  spare,  and  also  not  having  had  it  recalled  to 
his  mind  for  years  that  he  was  a  parent,  except  when 
he  found  himself  forced  reluctantly  to  pay  for  some 
small  need,  he  beheld  in  the  young  offender  only  some 
a  VOL.  2 


26  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

impudent  servant's  brat,  who  had  strayed  into  his 
domain  and  applied  itself  at  once  to  mischief. 

He  sprang  upon  her  and,  seizing  her  by  the  arm, 
whirled  her  to  her  feet  with  no  little  violence,  snatch- 
ing the  powder  flask  from  her,  and  dealing  her  a 
sound  box  on  the  ear. 

"Blood  and  damnation  on  thee,  thou  impudent  little 
baggage !"  he  shouted.  "I'll  break  thy  neck  for  thee, 
little  scurvy  beast,"  and  pulled  the  bell  as  he  were  like 
to  break  the  wire. 

But  he  had  reckoned  falsely  on  what  he  dealt  with. 
Miss  uttered  a  shriek  of  rage  which  rang  through  the 
roof  like  a  clarion.  She  snatched  the  crop  from  the 
floor,  rushed  at  him,  and  fell  upon  him  like  a  thou- 
sand little  devils,  beating  his  big  legs  with  all  the 
strength  of  her  passion,  and  pouring  forth  oaths  such 
as  would  have  done  credit  to  Doll  Lightfoot  herself. 

"Damn  thee!  Damn  thee!"  she  roared  and 
screamed,  flogging  him.  "I'll  cut  thy  liver  from 
thee!  Damn  thy  soul  to  h— 11!" 

And  this  choice  volley  was  with  such  spirit  and  fury 
poured  forth  that  Sir  Jeoffry  let  his  hand  drop  from  the 
bell,  fell  into  a  great  burst  of  laughter,  and  stood  thus 
roaring  while  she  beat  him  and  shrieked  and  stormed. 

The  servants,  hearing  the  jangled  bell,  attracted  by 
the  tumult,  and  of  a  sudden  missing  Mistress  Clo- 
rinda,  ran  in  consternation  to  the  hall,  and  there  be- 
held this  truly  pretty  sight — Miss  beating  her  father's 
legs  and  tearing  at  him  tooth  and  nail,  while  he  stood 
shouting  with  laughter  as  if  he  would  split  his  sides. 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  27 

"Who  is  the  little  cockatrice?"  he  cried,  the  tears 
streaming  down  his  florid  cheeks.  "Who  is  the  young 
she-devil?  Ods  bodikins,  who  is  she?" 

For  a  second  or  so  the  servants  stared  at  each  other 
aghast,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  or  venturing  to  utter 
a  word,  and  then  the  nurse,  who  had  come  up  panting, 
dared  to  gasp  forth  the  truth. 

"  'Tis  Mistress  Clorinda,  Sir  Jeoffry,"  she  stam- 
mered. "My  lady's  last  infant.  The  one  of  whom 
she  died  in  childbed." 

His  big  laugh  broke  in  two,  as  one  might  say.  He 
looked  down  at  the  young  fury  and  stared.  She  was 
out  of  breath  with  beating  him,  and  had  ceased  and 
fallen  back  apace,  and  was  staring  up  at  him  also, 
breathing  defiance  and  hatred.  Her  big  black  eyes 
were  flames,  her  head  was  thrown  up  and  back,  her 
cheeks  were  blood-scarlet,  and  her  great  crop  of  crow- 
black  hair  stood  out  about  her  beauteous,  wicked  little 
virago  face,  as  if  it  might  change  into  Medusa's 
snakes. 

"Damn  thee!"  she  shrieked  at  him  again.  "I'll  kill 
thee,  devil!" 

Sir  Jeoffry  broke  into  his  big  laugh  afresh. 

"Clorinda  do  they  call  thee,  wench,"  he  said. 
"Jeoffry  thou  shouldst  have  been  but  for  thy  mother's 
folly.  A  fiercer  little  devil  for  thy  size  I  never  saw — 
nor  a  handsomer  one." 

And  he  seized  her  from  where  she  stood  and  held 
her  at  his  big  arm's  length,  gazing  at  her  uncanny 
beauty  with  looks  that  took  her  in  from  head  to  foot. 


CHAPTER   III 

WHEREIN  SIR  JEOFFRY's  BOON  COMPANIONS  DRINK 
A  TOAST 

HER  beauty  of  face,  her  fine  body,  her  strength  of 
limb  and  great  growth  for  her  age  would  have  pleased 
him  if  she  had  possessed  no  other  attraction,  but  the 
daring  of  her  fury  and  her  stable-boy  breeding  so 
amused  him  and  suited  his  roistering  tastes  that  he 
took  to  her  as  to  the  finest  plaything  in  the  world. 

He  set  her  on  the  floor,  forgetting  his  coursing,  and 
would  have  made  friends  with  her,  but  at  first  she 
would  have  none  of  him,  and  scowled  at  him  in  spite 
of  all  he  did.  The  brandy  by  this  time  had  mounted 
to  his  head  and  put  him  in  the  mood  for  frolic,  liquor 
oftenest  making  him  gamesome.  He  felt  as  if  he 
were  playing  with  a  young  dog  or  marking  the  spirit 
of  a  little  fighting-cock.  He  ordered  the  servants  back 
to  their  kitchen,  who  stole  away,  the  women  amazed, 
and  the  men  concealing  grins  which  burst  forth  into 
guffaws  of  laughter  when  they  came  into  their  hall 
below. 

"Tis  as  we  said,"  they  chuckled.  "He  had  but 
to  see  her  beauty  and  find  her  a  bigger  devil  than  him- 
28 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  29 

self,  and  'twas  done.  The  mettle  of  her — damning 
and  flogging  him !  Never  was  there  a  finer  sight  1  She 
feared  him  no  more  than  if  he  had  been  a  spaniel. 
And  he  roaring  and  laughing  till  he  was  like  to 
burst." 

"Dost  know  who  I  am?"  Sir  Jeoffry  was  asking 
the  child,  grinning  himself  as  he  stood  before  her 
where  she  sat  on  the  oaken  settle  on  which  he  had 
lifted  her. 

"No,"  quoth  little  Mistress,  her  black  brows  drawn 
down,  her  handsome  owl's  eyes  verily  seeming  to  look 
him  through  and  through  in  search  of  somewhat,  for, 
in  sooth,  her  rage  abating  before  his  jovial  humor,  the 
big,  burly  laughter  attracted  her  attention,  though  she 
was  not  disposed  to  show  him  that  she  leaned  toward 
any  favor  or  yielding. 

"I  am  thy  dad,"  he  said.  "  Twas  thy  dad  thou 
gavest  such  a  trouncing.  And  thou  hast  an  arm,  too. 
Let's  cast  an  eye  on  it." 

He  took  her  wrist  and  pushed  "up  her  sleeve,  but 
she  dragged  back. 

"Will  not  be  mauled,"  she  cried.  "Get  away  from 
me!" 

He  shouted  with  laughter  again.  He  had  seen  that 
the  little  arm  was  as  white  and  hard  as  marble,  and 
had  such  muscles  as  a  great  boy  might  have  been  a 
braggart  about. 

"By  God!"  he  said,  elated.  "What  a  wench  of  six 
years  old!  Wilt  have  my  crop  and  trounce  thy  dad 
again  ?" 


30  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

He  picked  up  the  crop  from  the  place  where  she 
had  thrown  it,  and  forthwith  gave  it  in  her  hand.  She 
took  it,  but  was  no  more  in  the  humor  to  beat  him, 
and  as  she  looked,  still  frowning,  from  him  to  the 
whip,  the  latter  brought  back  to  her  mind  the  horse 
she  had  set  out  in  search  of. 

"Where  is  my  horse?"  she  said,  and  'twas  in  the 
tone  of  an  imperial  demand.  "Where  is  he?" 

"Thy  horse!"  he  echoed.  "Which  is  thy  horse, 
then?" 

"Rake  is  my  horse,"  she  answered.  "The  big,  black 
one.  The  man  took  him  again."  And  she  ripped  out 
a  few  more  oaths  and  unchaste  expressions,  threaten- 
ing what  she  would  do  for  the  man  in  question;  the 
which  delighted  him  more  than  ever.  "Rake  is  my 
horse,"  she  ended.  "None  else  shall  ride  him." 

"None  else?"  cried  he.  "Thou  canst  not  ride  him, 
baggage!" 

She  looked  at  him  with  scornful  majesty. 

"Where  is  he?"  she  demanded.  And  the  next  in- 
stant, hearing  the  beast's  restless  feet  grinding  into  the 
gravel  outside  as  he  fretted  at  having  been  kept  wait- 
ing so  long,  she  remembered  what  the  stable-boy  had 
said  of  having  seen  her  favorite  standing  before  the 
door,  and  struggling  and  dropping  from  the  settle,  she 
ran  to  look  out;  whereupon,  having  done  so,  she 
shouted,  in  triumph. 

"He  is  here!"  she  said.  "I  see  him."  And  went 
pell-mell  down  the  stone  steps  to  his  side.  ^ 

Sir  Jeoffry  followed  her  in  haste.     'Twould  not 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  31 

have  been  to  his  humor  now  to  have  her  brains  kicked 
out. 

"Hey !"  he  called,  as  he  hurried.  "Keep  away  from 
his  heels,  thou  little  devil." 

But  she  had  run  to  the  big  beast's  head  with  an- 
other shout  and  caught  him  round  his  fore-leg,  laugh- 
ing, and  Rake  bent  his  head  down  and  nosed  her  in 
a  fumbling  caress,  on  which,  the  bridle  coming  within 
her  reach,  she  seized  it  and  held  his  head  that  she 
might  pat  him,  to  which  familiarity  the  beast  was 
plainly  well  accustomed. 

"He  is  my  horse,"  quoth  she,  grandly,  when  her 
father  reached  her.  "He  will  not  let  Giles  play  so." 

Sir  Jeoffry  gazed  and  swelled  with  pleasure  in  her. 

"Would  have  said  'twas  a  lie  if  I  had  not  seen  it," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  'Tis  no  girl  this,  I  swear.  I 
thought  'twas  my  horse,"  he  said  to  her,  "but  'tis 
plain  enough  he  is  thine." 

"Put  me  up!"  said  his  new-found  offspring. 

"Hast  rid  him  before?"  Sir  Jeoffry  asked  with  some 
lingering  misgiving.  "Tell  thy  dad  if  thou  hast  rid 
him." 

She  gave  him  a  look  askance  under  her  long  fringed 
lids — a  surly  yet  half  slyly  relenting  look,  because  she 
wanted  to  get  her  way  of  him,  and  had  the  cunning 
wit  and  shrewdness  of  a  child  witch. 

"Ay!"  quoth  she.    "Put  me  up— Dad." 

He  was  not  a  man  of  quick  mind,  his  brain  having 
been  too  many  years  bemuddled  with  drink,  but  he 
had  a  rough  instinct  which  showed  him  all  the  won- 


32  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

drous  shrewdness  of  her  casting  that  last  word  at  him 
to  wheedle  him,  even  though  she  looked  sullen  in  the 
saying  it.  It  made  him  roar  again  for  very  exulta- 
tion. 

"Put  me  up,  Dad !"  he  cried.  "That  will  I— and  see 
what  thou  wilt  do." 

He  lifted  her,  she  springing  as  he  set  his  hands  be- 
neath her  arms,  and  flinging  ber  legs  astride  across 
the  saddle  when  she  reached  it.  She  was  all  fire  and 
excitement  and  caught  the  reins  like  an  old  huntsman, 
and  with  such  a  grasp  as  was  amazing.  She  sat  up 
with  a  straight,  strong  back,  her  whole  face  glowing 
and  sparkling  with  exultant  joy.  Rake  seemed  to  an- 
swer to  her  excited  little  laugh  almost  as  much  as  to 
her  hand ;  it  seemed  to  wake  his  spirit  and  put  him  in 
good  humor.  He  started  off  with  her  down  the  avenue 
at  a  light  spirited  trot,  while  she,  clinging  with  her 
little  legs  and  sitting  firm  and  fearless,  made  him 
change  into  canter  and  gallop,  having  actually  learned 
all  his  paces  like  a  lesson  and  knowing  his  mouth  as 
did  his  groom,  who  was  her  familiar  and  slave.  Had 
she  been  of  the  build  ordinary  with  children  of  her 
age,  she  could  not  have  stayed  upon  his  back,  but  she 
sat  him  like  a  child  jockey,  and  Sir  Jeoffry,  watching 
and  following  her,  clapped  his  hands  boisterously  and 
hallooed  for  joy. 

"Lord,  Lord!"  he  said.  "There's  not  a  man  in  the 
shire  has  such  another  little  devil.  And  Rake,  'her 
horse/  "  grinning :  "and  she  to  ride  him  so.  I  love 
thee,  wench.  Hang  me  if  I  do  not !" 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  33 

She  made  him  play  with  her  and  with  Rake  for  a 
good  hour,  and  then  took  him  back  to  the  stables  and 
there  ordered  him  about  finely  among  the  dogs  and 
horses,  perceiving  that  somehow  this  great  man  she 
had  got  hold  of  was  a  creature  who  was  in  power  and 
could  be  made  use  of. 

When  they  returned  to  the  house,  he  had  her  to  eat 
her  midday  meal  with  him,  when  she  called  for  ale 
and  drank  it,  and  did  good  trencher  duty,  making  him 
the  while  roar  with  laughter  at  her  impudent  child 
talk. 

"Never  have  I  so  split  my  sides  since  I  was  twenty," 
he  said.  "It  makes  me  young  again  to  roar  so.  She 
shall  not  leave  my  sight,  since  by  chance  I  have  found 
her.  Tis  too  good  a  joke  to  lose,  when  times  are  dull, 
as  they  get  to  be  as  a  man's  years  go  on." 

He  sent  for  her  woman  and  laid  strange  new  com- 
mands on  her. 

"Where  hath  she  hitherto  been  kept?"  he  asked. 

"In  the  west  wing,  where  are  the  nurseries  and 
where  Mistress  Wimpole  abides  with  Mistress  Bar- 
bara and  Mistress  Anne,"  the  woman  answered  with 
a  frightened  courtesy. 

"Henceforth  she  shall  live  in  this  part  of  the  house 
where  I  do,"  he  said.  "Make  ready  the  chambers  that 
were  my  lady's  and  prepare  to  stay  there  with  her." 

From  that  hour  the  child's  fate  was  sealed.  He 
made  himself  her  play-fellow,  and  romped  with  and 
indulged  her  until  she  became  fonder  of  him  than  of 
any  groom  or  stable-boy  she  had  been  companions 


34  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

with  before.  But,  indeed,  she  had  never  been  given  to 
bestowing  much  affection  on  those  around  her,  seem- 
ing to  feel  herself  too  high  a  personage  to  show  soft- 
ness. The  ones  she  showed  most  favor  to  were  those 
who  served  her  best,  and  even  to  them  it  was  always 
favor  she  showed,  not  tenderness.  Certain  dogs  and 
horses  she  was  fond  of,  Rake  coming  nearest  to  her 
heart,  and  the  place  her  father  won  in  her  affections 
was  somewhat  like  to  Rake's.  She  made  him  her 
servant  and  tyrannized  over  him,  but  at  the  same  time 
followed  and  imitated  him  as  if  she  had  been  a  young 
spaniel  he  was  training.  The  life  the  child  led  it  would 
have  broken  a  motherly  woman's  heart  to  hear  about, 
but  there  was  no  good  woman  near  her,  her  mother's 
relatives  and  even  Sir  JeofTry's  own  having  cut  them- 
selves off  early  from  them,  Wildairs  Hall  and  its  mas- 
ter being  no  great  credit  to  those  having  the  misfortune 
to  be  connected  with  them.  The  neighboring  gentry 
had  gradually  ceased  to  visit  the  family  some  time  be- 
fore her  ladyship's  death,  and  since  then  the  only 
guests  who  frequented  the  place  were  a  circle  of  hunt- 
ing, drinking,  and  guzzling  boon  companions  of  Sir 
Jeoffry's  own,  who  joined  him  in  ail  his  carousals  and 
debaucheries. 

To  these  he  announced  his  discovery  of  his  daugh- 
ter with  tumultuous  delight.  He  told  them,  amid 
storms  of  laughter,  of  his  first  encounter  with  her; 
of  her  flogging  him  with  his  own  crop  and  cursing 
him  like  a  trooper;  of  her  claiming  Rake  as  her  own 
horse,  and  swearing  at  the  man  who  had  dared  to 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  35 

take  him  from  the  stable  to  ride,  and  of  her  sitting 
him  like  an  infant  jockey  and  seeming  by  some  strange 
power  to  have  mastered  him  as  no  other  had  been  able 
heretofore  to  do. 

Then  he  had  her  brought  into  the  dining-room, 
where  they  sat  over  their  bottles  drinking  deep,  and 
setting  her  on  the  table  he  exhibited  her  to  them,  boast- 
ing of  her  beauty,  showing  them  her  splendid  arm  and 
leg  and  thigh,  measuring  her  height,  and  exciting  her 
to  test  the  strength  of  the  grip  of  her  hand  and  the 
power  of  her  little  fist. 

"Saw  you  ever  a  wench  like  her?"  he  cried,  as  they 
all  shouted  with  laughter  and  made  jokes  not  too  po- 
lite, but  such  as  were  of  th'e  sole  kind  they  were  given 
to.  "Has  any  man  among  you  begot  a  boy  as  big  and 
handsome?  Hang  me!  if  she  would  not  knock  down 
any  lad  of  ten  if  she  were  in  a  fury." 

"We  wild  dogs  are  out  of  favor  with  the  women," 
cried  one  of  the  best  pleased  among  them,  a  certain 
Lord  Eldershawe,  whose  seat  was  a  few  miles  from 
Wildairs  Hall.  "Women  like  nincompoops  and  chap- 
lains. Let  us  take  this  one  for  our  toast  and  bring 
her  up  as  girls  should  be  brought  up  to  be  companions 
of  men.  I  give  you,  Mistress  Clorinda  Wildairs — 
Mistress  Clorinda,  the  Enslaver  of  six  years  old. 
Bumpers,  lads!  Bumpers!" 

And  they  set  her  in  the  very  midst  of  the  big  table 
and  drank  her  health  standing,  bursting  into  a  jovial 
ribald  song,  and  the  child,  excited  by  the  noise  and 
laughter,  actually  broke  forth  and  joined  them  in  a 


36  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

high,  strong  treble,  the  song  being  one  she  was  quite 
familiar  with,  having  heard  it  often  enough  in  the 
stable  to  have  learned  the  words  pat. 

Two  weeks  after  his  meeting  with  her,  Sir  Jeoffry 
was  seized  with  the  whim  to  go  up  to  London  and  set 
her  forth  with  finery.  'Twas  but  rarely  he  went  up 
to  town,  having  neither  money  to  waste  nor  finding 
great  attraction  in  the  more  civilized  quarters  of  the 
world.  He  brought  her  back  such  clothes  as  for  rich- 
ness and  odd  unsuitable  fashion  child  never  wore 
before.  There  were  brocades  that  stood  alone  with 
splendor  of  fabric,  there  was  rich  lace,  fine  linen,  rib- 
bons, farthingales,  swansdown  tippets,  and  little  slip- 
pers with  high,  red  heels.  He  had  a  wardrobe  made 
for  her  such  as  the  finest  lady  of  fashion  could  scarcely 
boast,  and  the  tiny  creature  was  decked  out  in  it,  and 
on  great  occasions  even  strung  with  her  dead  mother's 
jewels. 

Among  these  strange  things,  he  had  the  fantastical 
notion  to  have  made  for  her  several  suits  of  boy's 
clothes :  pink  and  blue  satin  coats,  little  white  or  am- 
ber or  blue  satin  breeches,  ruffles  of  lace,  and  waist- 
coats embroidered  with  colors  and  silver  or  gold. 
There  was  also  a  small  scarlet-coated  hunting  cos- 
tume, and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  the  chase.  It  was  Sir 
Jeoffry 's  finest  joke  to  bid  her  woman  dress  her  as  a 
boy,  and  then  he  would  have  her  brought  to  the  table 
where  he  and  his  fellows  were  dining  together,  and 
she  would  toss  off  her  little  bumper  with  the  best  of 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  37 

them,  and  rip  out  childish  oaths  and  sing  them,  to 
their  delight,  songs  she  had  learned  from  the  stable- 
boys.  She  cared  more  for  dogs  and  horses  than  for 
finery,  and  when  she  was  not  in  the  humor  to  be  made 
a  puppet  of,  neither  tire-woman  nor  devil  could  put 
her  into  her  brocades ;  but  she  liked  the  excitement  of 
the  dining-room,  and  as  time  went  on  would  be  dressed 
in  her  flowered  petticoats,  in  a  passion  of  eagerness  to 
go  and  show  herself,  and  coquet  in  her  lace  and  gew- 
gaws with  men  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  and  loose 
enough  to  find  her  premature  airs  and  graces  a  fine 
joke  indeed.  She  ruled  them  all  with  her  temper  and 
her  shrewish  will.  She  would  have  her  way  in  all 
things  or  there  should  be  no  sport  with  her,  and  she 
would  sing  no  songs  for  them,  but  would  flout  them 
bitterly  and  sit  in  a  great  chair  with  her  black  brows 
drawn  down  and  her  whole  small  person  breathing 
rancor  and  disdain. 

Sir  Jeoffry,  who  had  bullied  his  wife,  had  now  the 
pleasurable  experience  of  being  hen-pecked  by  his 
daughter,  for  so  indeed  he  was.  Miss  ruled  him  with 
a  rod  of  iron,  and  wielded  her  weapon  with  such  skill 
that  before  a  year  had  elapsed  he  obeyed  her  as  the 
servants  below  stairs  had  done  in  her  infancy.  She 
had  no  fear  of  his  great  oaths,  she  possessed  a 
strangely  varied  stock  of  her  own  upon  which  she 
could  always  draw,  and  her  voice  being  more  shrill 
than  his,  if  not  of  such  bigness,  her  ear-piercing  shrieks 
and  indomitable  perseverance  always  proved  too  much 
for  him  in  the  end.  It  must  be  admitted  likewise  that 


38  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

her  violence  of  temper  and  power  of  will  were  some- 
what beyond  his  own,  notwithstanding  her  tender 
years  and  his  reputation.  In  fact  he  had  found  him- 
self obliged  to  observe  this,  and  finally  made  some- 
thing of  a  merit  and  joke  of  it. 

"There  is  no  managing  of  the  little  shrew,"  he  would 
say.  "Neither  man  nor  devil  can  bend  or  break  her. 
If  I  smashed  every  bone  in  her  carcase  she  would  die 
shrieking  hell  at  me  and  defiance." 

If  one  admits  the  truth  it  must  be  owned  that  if 
she  had  not  had  bestowed  upon  her  by  nature  gifts  of 
beauty  and  vivacity  so  extraordinary,  and  had  been 
cursed  with  a  thousandth  part  of  the  vixenishness  she 
displayed  every  day  of  her  life,  he  would  have  broken 
every  bone  in  her  carcase  without  a  scruple  or  a 
qualm.  But  her  beauty  seemed  but  to  grow  with 
every  hour  that  passed,  and  it  was,  by  exceeding  good 
fortune,  exactly  the  fashion  of  beauty  which  he  ad- 
mired the  most.  When  she  attained  her  tenth  year 
she  was  as  tall  as  a  fine  boy  of  twelve,  and  of  such 
a  shape  and  carriage  as  young  Diana  herself  might 
have  envied.  Her  limbs  were  long  and  most  divinely 
molded,  and  of  a  strength  that  caused  admiration  and 
amazement  in  all  beholders.  Her  father  taught  her 
to  follow  him  in  the  hunting-field,  and  when  she  ap- 
peared upon  her  horse,  clad  in  her  little  breeches  and 
top-boots  and  scarlet  coat,  child  though  she  was,  she 
set  the  field  on  fire.  She  learned  full  early  how  to 
coquet  and  roll  her  fine  eyes,  but  it  is  also  true  that  she 
was  not  much  of  a  languisher,  as  all  her  ogling  was 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  39 

of  a  destructive  or  proudly  attacking  kind.  It  was  her 
habit  to  leave  others  to  languish,  and  herself  to  lead 
them  with  disdainful  vivacity  to  doing  so.  She  was 
the  talk,  and  it  must  be  admitted,  the  scandal -of  the 
county  by  the  day  she  was  fifteen.  The  part  wherein 
she  lived  was  a  boisterous  hunting  shire,  where  there 
were  wide  ditches  and  high  hedges  to  leap,  and  rough 
hills  and  moors  to  gallop  over,  and  within  the  region 
neither  polite  life  nor  polite  education  were  much 
thought  of.  But  even  in  the  worst  portions  of  it 
there  were  occasional  virtuous  matrons  who  shook 
their  heads  with  much  gravity  and  wonder  over  the 
beautiful  Mistress  Clorinda. 


CHAPTER    IV 

LORD     TWEMLOW'S     CHAPLAIN     VISITS     HIS     PATRON'S 

KINSMAN,    AND    MISTRESS    CLORINDA    SHINES 

ON    HER    BIRTHDAY    NIGHT 

UNCIVILIZED  and  almost  savage  as  her  girlish  life 
was,  and  unregulated  by  any  outward  training  as  was 
her  mind,  there  were  none  who  came  in  contact  with 
her  who  could  be  blind  to  a  certain  strong,  clear  wit 
and  unconquerableness  of  purpose  for  which  she  was 
remarkable. 

She  ever  knew  full  well  what  she  desired  to 
gain  or  to  avoid,  and  once  having  fixed  her  mind 
upon  any  object,  she  showed  an  adroitness  and  bril- 
liancy of  resource,  a  control  of  herself  and  'others, 
the  which  there  was  no  circumventing.  She  never 
made  a  blunder  because  she  could  not  control  the  ex- 
pression of  her  emotions,  and  when  she  gave  way  to 
a  passion  'twas  because  she  chose  to  do  so,  having 
naught  to  lose,  and  in  the  midst  of  all  their  riotous 
jesting  with  her,  the  boon  companions  of  Sir  Jeoffry 
knew  this. 

"Had  she  a  secret  to  keep — child  though  she  is," 
said  Eldershawe,  "there  is  none,  man  or  woman,  who 
40 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  41 

could  scare  or  surprise  it  from  her.  And  'tis  a  strange 
quality  to  note  so  early  in  a  female  creature." 

She  spent  her  days  with  her  father  and  his  disso- 
lute friends,  treated  half  like  a  boy,  half  a  fantastical 
queen  until  she  was  fourteen.  She  hunted  and  coursed, 
shot  birds,  leaped  hedges  and  ditches,  reigned  at  the 
riotous  feastings,  and  coquetted  with  these  mature  and, 
in  some  cases,  elderly  men,  as  if  she  looked  forward 
to  doing  naught  else  all  her  life.  But  one  day,  after 
she  had  gone  out  hunting  with  her  father,  riding  Rake, 
who  had  been  given  to  her,  and  wearing  her  scarlet 
coat,  breeches,  and  top-boots,  one  of  the  few  re- 
maining members  of  her  mother's  family  sent  his 
chaplain  to  remonstrate,  and  advise  her  father  to 
command  her  to  forbear  from  appearing  in  such 
impudent  attire. 

There  was  indeed  a  stirring  scene  when  this  mes- 
sage was  delivered  by  its  bearer.  The  chaplain  was 
an  awkward,  timid  creature,  who  had  heard  stories 
enough  of  Wildairs  Hall  and  its  master  to  undertake 
his  mission  with  a  quaking  soul.  To  have  refused  to 
obey  any  behest  of  his  patron  would  have  cost  him 
his  living,  and  knowing  this  beyond  a  doubt,  he  was 
forced  to  gird  up  his  loins  and  gather  together  all  the 
little  courage  he  could  muster  to  beard  the  lion  in 
his  den. 

The  first  thing  he  beheld  on  entering  the  big  hall 
was  a  beautiful  tall  youth,  wearing  his  own  rich  black 
hair,  and  dressed  in  scarlet  coat  for  hunting.  He  was 
playing  with  a  dog,  making  it  leap  over  his  crop,  and 


42  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

both  laughing  and  swearing  at  its  clumsiness.  He 
glanced  at  the  chaplain  with  a  laughing,  brilliant  eye, 
returning  the  poor  man's  humble  bow  with  a  slight 
nod  as  he  plainly  harkened  to  what  he  said  as  he 
explained  his  errand. 

"I  come  from  my  Lord  Twemlow,  who  is  your 
master's  kinsman,"  the  chaplain  faltered.  "I  am  bid- 
den to  see  and  speak  to  him,  if  it  be  possible,  and  his 
lordship  much  desires  that  Sir  Jeoffry  will  allow  it  to 
be  so.  My  Lord  Twemlow — " 

The  beautiful  youth  left  his  playing  with  the  dog 
and  came  forward  with  all  the  air  of  the  young  master 
of  the  house. 

"My  Lord  Twemlow  sends  you?"  he  said.  "  'Tis 
long  since  his  lordship  favored  us  with  messages. 
"Where  is  Sir  Jeoffry,  Lovatt?" 

"In  the  dining-hall,"  answered  the  servant.  "He 
went  there  but  a  moment  past,  Mistress." 

The  chaplain  gave  such  a  start  as  made  him  drop 
his  shovel  hat.  "Mistress!"  And  this  was  she — this 
fine  young  creature  who  was  tall  and  grandly  enough 
built  and  knit  to  seem  a  radiant  being  even  when  clad 
in  masculine  attire !  He  picked  up  his  hat  and  bowed 
so  low  that  it  almost  swept  the  floor  in  his  obeisance. 
He  was  not  used  to  female  beauty  which  deigned  to 
cast  great  smiling  eyes  upon  him,  for  at  my  Lord 
Twemlow's  table  he  sat  so  far  below  the  salt  that 
women  looked  not  his  way. 

This  beauty  looked  at  him  as  if  she  was  amused  at 
the  thought  of  something  in  her  own  mind.  He  won- 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  43 

dered  tremblingly  if  she  guessed  what  he  came  for  and 
knew  how  her  father  would  receive  it. 

"Come  with  me,"  she  said ;  "I  will  take  you  to  him. 
He  would  not  see  you  if  I  did  not.  He  does  not  love 
his  lordship  tenderly  enough." 

She  led  the  way,  holding  her  head  jauntily  and  high, 
while  he  cast  down  his  eyes  lest  his  gaze  should  be 
led  to  wander  in  a  way  unseemly  in  one  of  his 
cloth. 

Such  a  foot,  and  such — !  He  felt  it  more  becoming 
and  safer  to  lift  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  keep  them 
there,  which  gave  him  somewhat  the  aspect  of  one 
praying. 

Sir  Jeoffry  stood  at  the  buffet  with  a  tankard  of  ale 
in  his  hand,  taking  his  stirrup-cup.  At  the  sight  of  a 
stranger,  and  one  attired  in  the  garb  of  a  chaplain,  he 
scowled  surprisedly. 

"What's  this?"  quoth  he.  "What  dost  want,  Clo? 
I  have  no  leisure  for  a  sermon." 

Mistress  Clorinda  went  to  the  buffet  and  filled  a 
tankard  for  herself,  and  carried  it  back  to  the  table, 
on  the  edge  of  which  she  half-sat  with  one  leg  bent, 
one  foot  resting  on  the  floor. 

"Time  thou  wilt  have  to  take,  Dad,"  she  said,  with 
an  arch  grin,  showing  two  rows  of  gleaming  pearls. 
"This  gentleman  is  my  Lord  Twemlow's  chaplain, 
whom  he  sends  to  exhort  you,  requesting  you  to  have 
the  civility  to  hear  him." 

"Exhort  be  damned,  and  Twemlow  be  damned, 
too !"  cried  Sir  Jeoffry,  who  had  a  great  quarrel  with 


44  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

his  lordship,  and  hated  him  bitterly.  "What  does  the 
canting  fool  mean?" 

"Sir,"  faltered  the  poor  message-bearer,  "his  lord- 
ship hath — hath  been  concerned — having  heard — " 

The  handsome  creature  balanced  against  the  table 
took  the  tankard  from  her  lips  and  laughed. 

"Having  heard  thy  daughter  rides  to  field  in 
breeches  and  is  an  unseemly  behaving  wench,"  she 
cried.  "His  lordship  sends  his  chaplain  to  deliver  a 
discourse  thereon — not  choosing  to  come  himself.  Is 
not  that  thy  errand,  reverend  sir?" 

The  chaplain  —  poor  man  —  turned  pale,  having 
caught,  as  she  spoke,  a  glimpse  of  Sir  Jeoffry's  red- 
dening visage. 

"Madam,"  he  faltered,  bowing,  "madam,  I  ask  par- 
don of  you  most  humbly.  If  it  were  your  pleasure  to 
deign  to — to — allow  me — " 

She  set  the  tankard  on  the  table  with  a  rollicking 
smack,  and  thrust  her  hands  in  her  breeches  pockets, 
swaying  with  laughter.  And  indeed  'twas  ringing 
music,  her  rich,  great  laugh,  which  when  she  grew  of 
riper  years  was  much  lauded  and  written  verses  on  by 
her  numerous  swains. 

"If  'twere  my  pleasure  to  go  away  and  allow  you 
to  speak,  free  from  the  awkwardness  of  a  young  lady's 
presence,"  she  said.  "But  'tis  not,  as  it  happens,  and 
if  I  stay  here  I  shall  be  a  protection." 

In  truth  he  required  one.  Sir  Jeoffry  broke  into  a 
torrent  of  blasphemy.  He  damned  both  kinsman  and 
chaplain,  and  raged  at  the  impudence  of  both  in  dar- 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  45 

ing  to  approach  him,  swearing  to  horsewhip  my  lord 
if  they  ever  met,  and  to  have  the  chaplain  kicked  out 
of  the  house  and  beyond  the  park  gates  themselves. 
But  Mistress  Clorinda  chose  to  make  it  her  whim  to 
take  it  in  better  humor,  and  as  a  joke  with  a  fine  point 
to  it.  She  laughed  at  her  father's  storming,  and  while 
the  chaplain  quailed  before  it  with  pallid  countenance 
and  fairly  hang-dog  look,  she  seemed  to  find  it  but  a 
cause  for  outbursts  of  merriment. 

"Hold  thy  tongue  a  bit,  Dad,"  she  cried  when  he 
had  reached  his  loudest;  "and  let  his  reverence  tell  us 
what  his  message  is.  We  have  not  even  heard  it." 

"Want  not  to  hear  it !"  shouted  Sir  Jeoffry.  "Dost 
think  I'll  stand  his  impudence?  Not  I!" 

"What  was  your  message?"  demanded  the  young 
lady  of  the  chaplain.  "You  can  not  return  without 
delivering  it.  Tell  it  to  me.  7  choose  it  shall  be  told." 

The  chaplain  clutched  and  fumbled  with  his  hat, 
pale,  and  dropping  his  eyes  upon  the  floor  for  very 
fear. 

"Pluck  up  thy  courage,  man,"  said  Clorinda.  "I 
will  uphold  thee.  The  message?" 

"Your  pardon,  madam — 'twas  this,"  the  chaplain 
faltered.  "My  lord  commanded  me  to  warn  your  hon- 
ored father — that  if  he  did  not  beg  you  to  leave  off 
wearing — wearing — " 

"Breeches,"  said  Mistress  Clorinda,  slapping  her 
knee. 

The  chaplain  blushed  with  modesty,  though  he  was 
a  man  of  sallow  countenance. 


46  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

"No  gentleman,"  he  went  on,  going  more  lamely  at 
each  word — "notwithstanding  your  great  beauty — no 
gentleman — " 

"Would  marry  me?"  the  young  lady  ended  for  him 
with  merciful  good-humor. 

"For  if  you — if  a  young  lady  be  permitted  to  bear 
herself  in  such  a  manner  as  will  cause  her  to  be  held 
lightly,  she  can  make  no  match  that  will  not  be  a  dis- 
honor to  her  family — and — and — " 

"And  may  do  worse!"  quoth  Mistress  Clo,  and 
laughed  until  the  room  rang. 

Sir  Jeoffry's  rage  was  such  as  made  him  like  to 
burst,  but  she  restrained  him  when  he  would  have  flung 
his  tankard  at  the  chaplain's  head,  and,  amid  his  storm 
of  curses,  bundled  the  poor  man  out  of  the  room,  pick- 
ing up  his  hat,  which  in  his  hurry  and  fright  he  let  fall, 
and  thrusting  it  into  his  hand. 

"Tell  his  lordship,"  she  said,  laughing  still,  as  she 
spoke  the  final  words,  "that  I  say  he  is  right — and  I 
will  see  to  it  that  no  disgrace  befalls  him. 

"Forsooth,  Dad,"  she  said,  "perhaps  the  old  son  of 

a  " — something  unmannerly — "is  not  so  great  a 

fool.  As  for  me,  I  mean  to  make  a  fine  marriage  and 
be  a  great  lady,  and  I  know  of  none  hereabouts  to 
suit  me  but  the  old  Earl  of  Dunstanwolde,  and  'tis 
said  he  rates  at  all  but  modest  women,  and  in  faith, 
he  might  not  find  breeches  mannerly.  I  will  not  hunt 
in  them  again." 

She  did  not,  though  once  or  twice,  when  she  was 
in  a  wild  mood,  and  her  father  entertained  at  dinner 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  47 

those  of  his  companions  whom  she  was  most  inclined 
to,  she  swaggered  in  among  them  in  her  daintiest  suits 
of  male  attire,  and  caused  their  wine-shot  eyes  to  gloat 
over  her  boyish  maiden  charm  and  jaunty  airs  and 
graces. 

On  the  night  of  her  fifteenth  birthday,  Sir  Jeoffry 
gave  a  great  dinner  to  his  boon  companions  and  hers. 
She  had  herself  commanded  that  there  should  be  no 
ladies  at  the  feast,  for  she  chose  to  announce  that  she 
should  appear  at  no  more  such,  having  the  wit  to  see 
that  she  was  too  tall  a  young  lady  for  childish  follies, 
and  that  she  had  now  arrived  at  an  age  when  her 
market  must  be  made. 

"I  shall  have  women  enough  henceforth  to  be  dull 
with,"  she  said.  "Thou  art  but  a  poor  match-maker, 
Dad,  or  vvouldst  have  thought  of  it  for  me.  But  not 
once  has  it  come  into  thy  pate  that  I  have  no  mother 
to  angle  in  my  cause  and  teach  me  how  to  cast  sheep's 
eyes  at  bachelors.  Long-tailed  petticoats  from  this 
time  for  me,  and  hoops  and  patches  and  ogling  over 
fans — until  at  last,  if  I  play  my  cards  well,  some  great 
lord  will  look  my  way  and  be  taken  by  my  shape  and 
my  manners." 

"With  thy  shape,  Clo,  God  knows  every  man  will," 
laughed  Sir  Jeoffry,  "but  I  fear  me  not  with  thy  man- 
ners. Thou  hast  the  manners  of  a  baggage,  and  they 
are  second  nature  to  thee." 

"They  are  what  I  was  born  with,"  answered  Mis- 
tress Clorinda.  "They  came  from  him  that  begot  me, 
and  he  has  not  since  improved  them.  But  now" — 


48  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

making  a  great  sweeping  courtesy,  her  impudent  bright 
beauty  almost  dazzling  his  eyes — "now,  after  my  birth- 
night,  they  will  be  bettered,  but  this  one  night  I  will 
have  my  last  fling." 

When  the  men  trooped  into  the  black  oak  wain- 
scoted dining-hall  on  the  eventful  night,  they  found 
their  audacious  young  hostess  awaiting  them  in  greater 
and  more  daring  beauty  than  they  had  ever  before 
beheld.  She  wore  knee-breeches  of  white  satin,  a  pink 
satin  coat  embroidered  with  silver  roses,  white  silk 
stockings,  and  shoes  with  great  buckles  of  brilliants, 
revealing  a  leg  so  round  and  strong  and  delicately 
molded,  and  a  foot  so  arched  and  slender  as  surely 
never  before,  they  swore  one  and  all,  woman  had  had 
to  display.  She  met  them  standing  jauntily  astride 
upon  the  hearth,  her  back  to  the  fire,  and  she  greeted 
each  one  as  he  came,  with  some  pretty  impudence. 
Her  hair  was  tied  back  and  powdered,  her  black  eyes 
were  like  lodestars,  drawing  all  men,  and  her  color 
was  that  of  a  ripe  pomegranate.  She  had  a  fine, 
haughty  little  Roman  nose,  a  mouth  like  a  scarlet  bow, 
a  wonderful  long  throat,  and  round  cleft  chin.  A 
dazzling  mien  indeed  she  possessed,  and  ready  enough 
she  was  to  shine  before  them.  Sir  Jeoffry  was  now 
an  elderly  man,  having  been  a  man  of  forty  when 
united  to  his  conjugal  companion.  Most  of  his  friends 
were  of  his  own  age,  so  that  it  had  not  been  with  un- 
ripe youth  Mistress  Clorinda  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
consorting.  But  upon  this  night  a  newcomer  was 
among  the  guests.  He  was  a  young  relation  of  one 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  49 

of  the  older  men,  and  having  come  to  his  kinsman's 
house  upon  a  visit,  and  having  proved  himself,  in  spite 
of  his  youth,  to  be  a  young  fellow  of  humor,  high 
courage  in  the  hunting-field,  and  by  no  means  averse 
either  to  entering  upon  or  discussing  intrigue  and  gal- 
lant adventure,  had  made  himself  something  of  a  fa- 
vorite. His  youthful  beauty  for  a  man  almost  equaled 
that  of  Mistress  Clorinda  herself.  He  had  an  elegant, 
fine  shape,  of  great  strength  and  vigor,  his  counte- 
nance was  delicately  ruddy  and  handsomely  featured, 
his  curling  fair  hair  flowed  loose  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  though  masculine  in  mold,  his  ankle  was  as  slender 
and  his  buckle  shoe  as  arched  as  her  own. 

He  was,  it  is  true,  twenty-four  years  of  age,  and 
a  man,  while  she  was  but  fifteen  and  a  woman,  but 
being  so  tall  and  built  with  such  unusual  vigor  of 
symmetry,  she  was  a  beauteous  match  for  him,  and 
both  being  attired  in  fashionable  masculine  habit,  these 
two  pretty  young  fellows  standing  smiling  saucily  at 
each  other  were  a  charming,  though  singular,  spectacle. 

This  young  man  was  already  well  known  in  the 
modish  world  of  town  for  his  beauty  and  adventurous 
spirit.  He  was  indeed  already  a  beau  and  a  conqueror 
of  female  hearts.  It  was  suspected  that  he  cherished 
a  private  ambition  to  set  the  modes  in  beauties  and 
embroidered  waistcoats  himself  in  time,  and  be  as  re- 
nowned abroad  and  as  much  the  town  talk  as  certain 
other  celebrated  beaux  had  been  before  him.  The  art 
of  ogling  tenderly  and  of  uttering  soft  nothings  he  had 
learned  during  his  first  season  in  town,  and  as  he  had 
3  VOL.  2 


50  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

a  great  melting  blue  eye,  the  figure  of  an  Adonis,  and 
a  white  and  shapely  hand  for  a  ring,  he  was  well 
equipped  for  conquest.  He  had  darted  many  an  in- 
flaming glance  at  Mistress  Clorinda  before  the  first 
meats  were  removed.  Even  in  London  he  had  heard 
a  vague  rumor  of  this  handsome  young  woman,  bred 
among  her  father's  dogs,  horses,  and  boon  companions, 
and  ripening  into  a  beauty  likely  to  make  town  faces 
pale.  He  had  almost  fallen  into  the  spleen  on  hear- 
ing that  she  had  left  her  boy's  clothes  and  vowed  she 
would  wear  them  no  more,  as  above  all  things  he  had 
desired  to  see  how  she  carried  them  and  what  charms 
they  revealed.  On  hearing  from  his  host  and  kins- 
man that  she  had  said  that  on  her  birth-night  she 
would  bid  them  farewell  forever  by  donning  them  for 
the  last  time,  he  was  consumed  with  eagerness  to  ob- 
tain an  invitation.  This  his  kinsman  besought  for 
him,  and,  behold,  the  first  glance  the  beauty  shot  at 
him  pierced  his  inflammable  bosom  like  a  dart.  Never 
before  had  it  been  his  fortune  to  behold  female  charms 
so  dazzling,  and  eyes  of  such  lustre  and  young  majesty. 
The  lovely  baggage  had  a  saucy  way  of  standing  with 
her  white  jeweled  hands  in  her  pockets  like  a  pretty 
fop,  and  throwing  up  her  little  head  like  a  modish 
beauty  who  was  of  royal  blood;  and  these  two  tricks 
alone,  he  felt,  might  have  set  on  fire  the  heart  of  a 
man  years  older  and  colder  than  himself. 

If  she  had  been  of  the  order  of  soft-natured  charm- 
ers they  would  have  fallen  into  each  other's  eyes  before 
the  wine  was  changed,  but  this  Mistress  Clorinda  was 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  51 

not.  She  did  not  fear  to  meet  the  full  battery  of  his 
enamored  glances,  but  she  did  not  choose  to  return 
them.  She  played  her  part  of  the  pretty  young  fel- 
low who  was  a  high-spirited  beauty  with  more  of  wit 
and  fire  than  she  had  ever  played  it  before.  The  rol- 
licking, hunting  squires  who  had  been  her  play-fellows 
so  long,  devoured  her  with  their  delighted  glances, 
and  roared  with  laughter  at  her  sallies.  Their  jokes 
and  flatteries  were  not  of  the  most  seemly,  but  she  had 
not  been  bred  to  seemliness  and  modesty,  and  was  no 
more  ignorant  than  if  she  had  been  in  sooth  some  gay 
young  springald  of  a  lad.  To  her  it  was  part  of  the 
entertainment  that  upon  this  last  night  they  conducted 
themselves  as  beseemed  her  boyish  masquerading. 
Though  country-bred,  she  had  lived  among  compan- 
ions who  were  men  of  the  world  and  lived  without 
restraints,  and  she  had  so  far  learned  from  them 
that  at  fifteen  years  old  she  was  as  worldly  and  as 
familiar  with  the  devices  of  intrigue  as  she  would 
be  at  forty. 

So  far  she  had  not  been  pushed  to  practising  them, 
her  singular  life  having  thrown  her  among  few  of  her 
own  age,  and  those  had  chanced  to  be  of  a  sort  she 
disdainfully  counted  as  country  bumpkins. 

But  the  young  gallant  introduced  to-night  into  the 
world  she  lived  in  was  no  bumpkin,  and  was  a  dandy 
of  the  town.  His  name  was  Sir  John  Oxon,  and  he 
had  just  come  into  his  title  and  a  pretty  property.  His 
hands  were  as  white  and  bejeweled  as  her  own,  his 
habit  was  of  the  latest  fashionable  cut,  and  his  fair, 


52  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

flowing  locks  scattered  a  delicate  French  perfume  she 
did  not  even  know  the  name  of. 

But  though  she  observed  all  these  attractions  and 
found  them  powerful,  young  Sir  John  remarked  with 
a  slight  sinking  qualm  that  her  great  eye  did  not  fall 
before  his  amorous  glances,  but  met  them  with  high- 
smiling  readiness,  and  her  color  never  blenched  or 
heightened  a  whit  for  all  their  masterly  skilfulness. 
But  he  had  sworn  to  himself  that  he  would  approach 
close  enough  to  her  to  fire  off  some  fine  speech  before 
the  night  was  ended,  and  he  endeavored  to  bear  him- 
self with  at  least  an  outward  air  of  patience  until  he 
beheld  his  opportunity. 

When  the  last  dish  was  removed  and  bottles  and 
bumpers  stood  upon  the  board,  she  sprang  up  on  her 
chair  and  stood  before  them  all,  smiling  down  the 
long  table  with  eyes  like  flashing  jewels.  Her  hands 
were  thrust  in  her  pockets  with  her  pretty  young  fop's 
air,  and  she  drew  herself  to  her  full  comely  height, 
her  beauteous  lithe  limbs  and  slender  feet  set  smartly 
together.  Twenty  pairs  of  masculine  eyes  were  turned 
upon  her  beauty,  but  none  so  ardently  as  the  young 
one's  across  the  table. 

"Look  your  last  on  my  fine  shape,"  she  proclaimed 
in  her  high,  rich  voice.  "You  will  see  but  little  of 
the  nether  part  of  it  when  it  is  hid  in  farthingales  and 
petticoats.  Look  your  last  before  I  go  to  don  my  fine 
lady's  furbelows." 

And  when  they  filled  their  glasses  and  lifted  them 
and  shouted  admiring  jests  to  her,  she  broke  into  one 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  53 

of  her  stable-boy  songs  and  sang  it  in  the  voice  of  a 
skylark. 

No  man  among  them  was  used  to  showing  her  the 
courtesies  of  polite  breeding.  She  had  been  too  long 
a  boy  to  them  for  that  to  have  entered  any  mind,  and 
when  she  finished  her  song,  sprang  down  and  made 
for  the  door,  Sir  John  beheld  his  long-looked-for 
chance,  and  was  there  before  to  open  it  with  a  great 
bow,  made  with  his  hand  upon  his  heart  and  his  fair 
locks  falling. 

"You  rob  us  of  the  rapture  of  beholding  great  beau- 
ties, mistress,"  he  said  in  a  low,  impassioned  voice. 
"But  there  should  be  indeed  but  one  happy  man  whose 
bliss  it  is  to  gaze  upon  such  perfections." 

"I  am  fifteen  years  old  to-night,"  she  answered, 
"and  as  yet  I  have  not  set  eyes  upon  him." 

"How  do  you  know  that,  madam?"  he  said,  bow- 
ing lower  still. 

She  laughed  her  great  rich  laugh. 

"Forsooth,  I  do  not  know,"  she  retorted.  "He  may 
be  here  this  very  night  among  this  company.  And  as 
it  might  be  so,  I  go  to  don  my  modesty." 

And  she  bestowed  on  him  a  parting  shot  in  the  shape 
of  one  of  her  prettiest  young  fop  waves  of  the  hand 
and  was  gone  from  him. 

When  the  door  closed  behind  her  and  Sir  John  Oxon 
returned  to  the  table,  for  a  while  a  sort  of  dulness  fell 
upon  the  party.  Not  being  of  quick  minds  or  senti- 
ments, these  country  roisterers  failed  to  understand 


54  A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

the  heavy  cloud  of  spleen  and  lack  of  spirit  they  ex- 
perienced, but  as  they  filled  their  glasses  and  tossed 
off  one  bumper  after  another  to  cure  it,  they  soon 
began  again  to  laugh  and  fell  into  boisterous  joking. 

They  talked  mostly,  indeed,  of  their  young  play- 
fellow, of  whom  they  felt,  in  some  indistinct  manner, 
they  were  to  be  bereft;  they  rallied  Sir  Jeoffry,  told 
stories  of  her  childhood,  and  made  pictures  of  her  bud- 
ding beauties,  comparing  them  with  those  of  young 
ladies  who  were  celebrated  toasts. 

"She  will  sail  among  them  like  a  royal  frigate,"  said 
one.  "And  they  will  pale  before  her  lustre  as  a  tallow- 
dip  does  before  an  illumination." 

The  clock  struck  twelve  before  she  returned  to  them. 
Just  as  the  last  stroke  sounded,  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  there  she  stood,  a  woman  on  each  side  of 
her,  holding  a  large  silver  candelabrum  bright  with 
wax  tapers  high  above  her,  so  that  she  was  in  a  flood 
of  light. 

She  was  attired  in  rich  brocade  of  crimson  and  sil- 
ver, and  wore  a  great  hooped  petticoat,  which  showed 
off  her  grandeur;  her  waist,  of  no  more  bigness  than 
a  man's  hands  could  clasp,  set  in  its  midst  like  the 
stem  of  a  flower;  her  black  hair  was  rolled  high  and 
circled  with  jewels,  her  fair  long  throat  blazed  with 
a  collar  of  diamonds,  and  the  majesty  of  her  eye  and 
lip  and  brow  made  up  a  mien  so  dazzling  that  every 
man  sprang  to  his  feet  beholding  her. 

She  made  a  sweeping  obeisance,  and  then  stood  up 
before  them,  her  head  thrown  back  and  her  lips  curv- 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY  55 

ing  in  the  triumphant  mocking  smile  of  a  great  beauty 
looking  upon  them  all  as  vassals. 

"Down  upon  your  knees,"  she  cried,  "and  drink  to 
me  kneeling.  From  this  night  all  men  must  bend  so — 
all  men  whom  I  deign  to  cast  my  eyes  on." 


CHAPTER    V 
"NOT  i,"  SHE  SAID.    "THERE  THOU  MAYEST  TRUST  ME. 

I  WOULD  NOT  BE  FOUND  OUT" 

SHE  went  no  more  a-hunting  in  boy's  clothes,  but 
from  this  time  forward  wore  brocades  and  paduasoys, 
fine  lawn,  and  lace.  Her  tire-woman  was  kept  so 
'busily  engaged  upon  making  rich  habits,  fragrant 
waters,  and  essences,  and  running  at  her  bidding  to 
change  her  gown  or  dress  her  head  in  some  changed 
fashion,  that  her  life  was  made  to  her  a  weighty  bur- 
den to  bear  and  also  a  painful  one.  Her  place  had  be- 
fore been  an  easy  one  but  for  her  mistress's  choleric 
temper,  but  it  was  so  no  more.  Never  had  young  lady 
been  so  exacting  and  so  tempestuous  when  not  pleased 
with  the  adorning  of  her  face  and  shape.  In  the 
presence  of  polite  strangers,  whether  ladies  or  gentle- 
men, Mistress  Clorinda  in  these  days  chose  to  chasten 
her  language  and  give  less  rein  to  her  fantastical  pas- 
sions, but  alone  in  her  closet  with  her  woman,  if  a 
ribbon  did  not  suit  her  fancy,  or  a  hoop  not  please,  she 
did  not  fear  to  be  as  scurrilous  as  she  chose.  In  this 
discreet  retirement  she  rapped  out  oaths,  and  boxed 
her  woman's  ears  with  a  vigorous  hand,  tore  off  her 
56 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  57 

gowns  and  stamped  them  beneath  her  feet,  or  flung 
pots  of  pomade  at  the  poor  woman's  head.  She  took 
these  freedoms  with  such  a  readiness  and  spirit  that  she 
was  served  with  a  despatch  and  humbleness  scarcely 
to  be  equaled,  and  it  is  certain  never  excelled. 

The  high  courage  and  undaunted  will  which  had 
been  the  engines  she  had  used  to  gain  her  will  from 
her  infant  years,  aided  her  in  these  days  to  carry  out 
what  her  keen  mind  and  woman's  wit  had  designed, 
which  was  to  take  the  county  by  storm  with  her 
beauty,  and  reign  toast  and  enslaver  until  such  time  as 
she  won  the  prize  of  a  husband  of  rich  estates  and 
notable  rank. 

It  was  soon  bruited  abroad,  to  the  amazement  of 
the  county,  that  Mistress  Clorinda  Wildairs  had 
changed  her  strange  and  unseemly  habits  of  life,  and 
had  become  as  much  a  young  lady  of  fashion  and 
breeding  as  her  birth  and  charm  demanded.  This  was 
first  made  known  by  her  appearing  one  Sunday  morn- 
ing at  church  accompanied,  as  though  attended  with  a 
retinue  of  servitors,  by  Mistress  Wimpole  and  her  two 
sisters,  whose  plain  faces,  awkward  shapes,  and  still 
more  awkward  attire  were  such  a  foil  to  her  glowing 
loveliness  as  set  it  in  high  relief.  It  was  seldom  that 
the  coach  from  Wildairs  Hall  drew  up  before  the  lich- 
gate, but  upon  rare  Sunday  mornings  Mistress  Wim- 
pole and  her  two  charges  contrived,  if  Sir  Jeoffry  was 
not  in  an  ill-humor  and  the  coachman  was  complai- 
sant, to  be  driven  to  service.  Usually,  however,  they 
trudged  afoot,  and  if  the  day  chanced  to  be  sultry,  ar- 


58  A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

rived  with  their  snub-nosed  faces  of  a  high  and  shining 
color,  or  if  the  country  roads  were  wet,  with  their 
petticoats  bemired. 

This  morning,  when  the  coach  drew  up,  the  horses 
were  well  groomed,  the  coachman  smartly  dressed  and 
a  footman  was  in  attendance,  who  sprang  to  earth  and 
opened  the  door  with  a  flourish. 

The  loiterers  in  the  churchyard,  and  those  who  were 
approaching  the  gate  or  passing  toward  the  church- 
porch,  stared  with  eyes  wide  stretched  in  wonder  and 
incredulity.  Never  had  such  a  thing  before  been  be- 
held or  heard  of  as  what  they  now  saw  in  broad  day- 
light. 

Mistress  Clorinda,  clad  in  highest  town  fashion,  in 
brocades  and  silver  lace,  and  splendid  furbelows, 
stepped  forth  from  the  chariot  with  the  air  of  a  queen. 
She  had  the  majestic  composure  of  a  young  lady  who 
had  worn  nothing  less  modish  than  such  raiment  all 
her  life,  and  who  had  prayed  decorously  beneath  her 
neighbors'  eyes  since  she  had  left  her  nurse's  care. 

Her  sisters  and  their  governess  looked  timorous, 
and  as  if  they  knew  not  where  to  cast  their  eyes  for 
shamefacedness,  but  not  so  Mistress  Clorinda,  who 
moved  forward  with  a  stately  swimming  gait,  her 
fine  head  in  the  air.  As  she  stepped  into  the  porch, 
a  young  gentleman  drew  back  and  made  a  profound 
obeisance  to  her.  She  cast  her  eyes  upon  him,  and  re- 
turned it  with  a  grace  and  condescension  which  struck 
the  beholders  dumb  with  admiring  awe.  To  some  of 
the  people  of  a  commoner  sort,  he  was  a  stranger,  but 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  59 

all  connected  with  the  gentry  knew  he  was  Sir  John 
Oxon,  who  was  staying  at  Eldershawe  Park  with  his 
relative,  whose  estate  it  was. 

How  Mistress  Clorinda  contrived  to  manage  it,  no 
one  was  aware  but  herself,  but  after  a  few  appear- 
ances at  church,  she  appeared  at  other  places.  She 
was  seen  at  dinners  at  fine  houses,  and  began  to  be 
seen  at  routs  and  balls.  Where  she  was  seen  she 
shone,  and  with  such  radiance  as  caused  match-mak- 
ing matrons  great  dismay  and  their  daughters  woful 
qualms. 

Once  having  shone,  she  could  not  be  extinguished, 
or  hidden  under  a  bushel,  for  being  of  rank  and 
highly  connected  through  mother  as  well  as  father, 
and  playing  her  cards  with  great  wit  and  skill,  she 
could  not  be  thrust  aside. 

At  her  first  hunt-ball  she  set  aflame  every  male 
breast  in  the  shire,  unmasking  such  a  battery  of 
charms  as  no  man  could  withstand  the  fire  of.  Her 
dazzling  eye,  her  wondrous  shape,  the  rich  music  of 
her  laugh,  and  the  mocking  wit  of  her  sharp,  saucy 
tongue,  were  weapons  to  have  armed  a  dozen  women, 
and  she  was  but  one,  and  in  the  first  rich  tempting 
glow  of  blooming  youth. 

She  turned  more  heads  and  caused  more  quarrels 
than  she  could  have  counted  had  she  sat  up  half  the 
night.  She  went  to  her  coach  with  her  father,  fol- 
lowed by  a  dozen  gallants,  each  ready  to  spit  the  other 
for  a  smile.  Her  smiles  were  wondrous,  but  there 
seemed  always  a  touch  oi  mockery  or  disdain  in  them, 


60  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

which  made  them  more  remembered  than  if  they  had 
been  softer. 

One  man  there  was  who  perchance  found  something 
in  her  high  glance  not  wholly  scornful,  but  he  was 
used  to  soft  treatment  from  woman,  and  had  in  sooth 
expected  milder  glances  than  were  bestowed  upon  him. 
This  was  young  Sir  John  Oxon,  who  had  found  him- 
self among  the  fair  sex  that  night  as  great  a  beau  as 
she  had  been  a  belle ;  but  two  dances  he  had  won  from 
her,  and  this  was  more  than  any  other  man  could 
boast,  and  what  other  gallants  envied  him  with  dark- 
est hatred. 

Sir  Jeoffry,  who  had  watched  her  as  she  queened  it 
among  rakes  and  fops  and  honest  country  squires  and 
knights,  had  marked  the  vigor  with  which  they  plyed 
her,  with  an  emotion  which  was  a  new  sensation  to  his 
drunk-bemuddled  brain.  So  far  as  it  was  in  his  nature 
to  love  another  than  himself,  he  had  learned  to  love 
this  young  lovely  virago  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood, 
perchance,  because  she  was  the  only  creature  who  had 
never  quailed  before  him,  and  had  always  known 
how  to  bend  him  to  her  will. 

When  the  chariot  rolled  away,  he  looked  at  her  as 
she  sat  erect  in  the  early  morning  light,  as  unblenched, 
bright  and  untouched  in  bloom  as  if  she  had  that  mo- 
ment risen  from  her  pillow  and  washed  her  face  in 
dew.  He  was  not  so  drunk  as  he  had  been  at  mid- 
night, but  he  was  a  little  maudlin. 

"By  God,  thou  art  handsome,  Go!"  he  said.  "By 
God,  I  never  saw  a  finer  woman." 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  6f 

"Nor  I,"  she  answered  back,  "which  I  thank  Heaven 
for." 

"Thou  pretty  brazen  baggage,"  her  father  laughed, 
"Old  Dunstanwolde  looked  thee  well  over  to-night. 
He  never  looked  away  from  the  moment  he  clapped 
eyes  on  thee." 

"That  I  knew  better  than  thee,  Dad,"  said  the 
beauty.  "And  I  saw  that  he  could  not  have  done 
it  if  he  had  tried.  If  there  comes  no  richer,  younger 
great  gentleman,  he  shall  marry  me." 

"Thou  hast  a  sharp  eye  and  a  keen  wit,"  said  Sir 
Jeoffry,  looking  askance  at  her  with  a  new  maggot  in 
his  brain.  "Wouldst  never  play  the  fool,  I  warrant. 
They  will  press  thee  hard  and  'twill  be  hard  to  with- 
stand their  love-making,  but  I  shall  never  have  to 
mount  and  ride  off  with  pistols  in  my  holsters  to 
bring  back  a  man  and  make  him  marry  thee,  as  Chris 
Crowell  had  to  do  for  his  youngest  wench.  Thou 
wouldst  never  play  the  fool,  I  warrant — wouldst  thou, 
Clo?" 

She  tossed  her  head  and  laughed  like  a  young, 
scornful  devil,  showing  her  white  pearl  teeth  between 
her  lips'  scarlet. 

"Not  I,"  she  said.  "There  thou  mayest  trust  me. 
I  would  not  be  found  out" 

She  played  her  part  as  triumphant  beauty  so  suc- 
cessfully that  the  cleverest  managing  mother  in  the 
universe  could  not  have  bettered  her  position. 
Gallants  brawled  for  her,  honest  men  fell  at  her 
feet,  romantic  swains  wrote  verses  to  her,  praising 


62  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

her  eyes,  her  delicate  bosom,  the  carnation  of  her 
cheek,  and  the  awful  majesty  of  her  mien.  In  every 
revel  she  was  queen;  in  every  contest  of  beauties, 
Venus;  in  every  spectacle  of  triumph,  empress  of 
them  all. 

The  Earl  of  Dunstanwolde,  who  had  the  oldest  name 
and  the  richest  estates  in  his  own  county  and  the  six 
adjoining  ones,  who,  having  made  a  love-match  in  his 
prime  and  lost  wife  and  heir  but  a  year  after  his 
nuptials,  had  been  the  despair  of  every  maid  and 
mother  who  knew  him,  because  he  would  not  be  melted 
to  a  marriageable  mood.  After  the  hunt-ball  this 
mourning  nobleman,  who  was  by  this  time  of  ripe 
years,  had  appeared  in  the  world  again  as  he  had  not 
done  for  many  years  before.  Before  many  months 
had  elapsed  it  was  known  that  his  admiration  of  the 
new  beauty  was  confessed,  and  it  was  believed  that 
he  but  waited  further  knowledge  of  her  to  advance 
to  the  point  of  laying  his  title  and  estates  at  her  feet. 

But  though  two  years  before  the  entire  county 
would  have  rated  low,  indeed,  the  wit  and  foresight 
of  the  man  who  had  even  hinted  the  possibility  of  such 
honor  and  good  fortune  being  in  prospect  for  the 
young  lady,  so  great  was  Mistress  Clorinda's  bril- 
liant and  noble  beauty,  and  with  such  majesty  she  bore 
herself  in  these  times,  that  there  were  even  those  who 
doubted  whether  she  would  think  my  lord  a  rich 
enough  prize  for  her,  and  if  when  he  fell  upon  his 
knees,  she  would  deign  to  become  his  countess,  feeling 
that  she  had  such  splendid  wares  to  dispose  of  as 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  63 

might  be  bartered  for  a  duke,  when  she  went  to  town 
and  to  court. 

During  the  length  of  more  than  one  man's  lifetime 
afterward,  the  reign  of  Mistress  Clorinda  Wildairs 
was  a  memory  recalled  over  the  bottle  at  the  dining- 
table  among  men,  some  of  whom  had  but  heard  their 
fathers  vaunt  her  beauties.  It  seemed  as  if  in  her 
person  there  was  not  a  single  flaw,  or  indeed  a  charm 
which  had  not  reached  the  highest  point  of  beauty. 
For  shape  she  might  have  vied  with  young  Diana, 
mounted  side  by  side  with  her  upon  a  pedestal;  her 
raven  locks  were  of  a  length  and  luxuriance  to  clothe 
her  as  a  garment,  her  great  eye  commanded  and  flashed 
as  Juno's  might  have  done  in  the  goddess's  divinest 
moments  of  lovely  pride,  and  though  it  was  said  none 
ever  saw  it  languish,  each  man  who  adored  her  was 
maddened  by  the  secret  belief  that  Venus  herself  could 
not  so  melt  in  love  as  she,  if  she  would  stoop  to  love 
— as  each  one  prayed  she  might — himself.  Her  hands 
and  feet,  her  neck,  the  slimness  of  her  waist,  her  man- 
tling crimson  and  ivory  white,  her  little  ear,  her  scar- 
let lip,  the  pearls  between  them,  and  her  long  white 
throat  were  perfection  each  and  all,  and  catalogued 
with  oaths  of  rapture. 

"She  hath  such  beauties,"  one  admirer  said,  "that 
a  man  must  toast  them  all  and  can  not  drink  to  her 
as  to  a  single  woman.  And  she  hath  so  many  that 
to  slight  none  her  servant  must  go  from  the  table 
reeling." 

There  was  but  one  thing  connected  with  her  which 


64  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

was  not  a  weapon  to  her  hand,  and  this  was  that  she 
was  not  a  fortune.  Sir  Jeoffry  had  drunk  and  rioted 
until  he  had  but  little  left.  He  had  cut  his  timber  and 
let  his  estate  go  to  rack,  having  indeed  no  money  to 
keep  it  up.  The  great  hall,  which  had  once  been  a  fine 
old  place,  was  almost  a  ruin.  Its  carved  oak  and  noble 
rooms  and  galleries  were  all  of  its  past  splendors  that 
remained.  All  had  been  sold  that  could  be  sold,  and 
all  the  outcome  had  been  spent.  The  county  indeed 
wondered  where  Mistress  Clorinda's  fine  clothes 
came  from,  and  knew  full  well  why  she  was  not 
taken  to  court  to  kneel  to  the  Queen.  That  she 
was  waiting  for  this  to  make  her  match,  the  envi- 
ous were  quite  sure  and  did  not  hesitate  to  whisper 
pretty  loudly. 

The  name  of  one  man  of  rank  and  fortune  after 
another  was  spoken  of  as  that  of  a  suitor  to  her  hand, 
but  in  some  way  it  was  discovered  that  she  refused 
them  all.  It  was  also  known  that  they  continued  to 
worship  her,  and  that  at  any  moment  she  could  call 
even  the  best  among  them  back.  It  seemed  that  while 
all  the  men  were  enamored  o'f  her,  there  was  not  one 
who  could  cure  himself  of  his  passion,  however  hope- 
less it  might  be. 

Her  wit  was  as  great  as  her  beauty,  and  she  had  a 
spirit  before  which  no  man  could  stand  if  she  chose 
to  be  disdainful.  To  some  she  was  so,  and  had  the 
whim  to  flout  them  with  great  brilliancy.  Encounters 
with  her  were  always  remembered,  and  if  heard  by 
those  not  concerned  were  considered  worthy  both  of 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY  65 

recollection  and  of  being  repeated  to  the  world;  she 
had  a  tongue  so  nimble  and  a  wit  so  full  of  fire. 

Young  Sir  John  Oxon's  visit  to  his  relative  at 
Eldershawe  being  at  an  end,  he  returned  to  town,  and 
remaining  there  through  a  few  weeks  of  fashionable 
gaiety,  won  new  reputations  as  a  triumpher  over  the 
female  heart.  He  made  some  renowned  conquests,  and 
set  the  mode  in  some  new  essences  and  sword  knots. 
But  even  these  triumphs  appeared  to  pall  upon  him 
shortly,  since  he  deserted  the  town  and  returned  again 
to  the  country,  where,  on  this  occasion,  he  did  not 
stay  with  his  relative,  but  with  Sir  Jeoffry  himself, 
who  had  taken  a  boisterous  fancy  to  him. 

It  had  been  much  marked  since  the  altered  life  of 
Mistress  Clorinda,  that  she,  who  had  previously  de- 
fied all  rules  laid  down  on  behavior  for  young  misses, 
and  had  been  thought  to  do  so  because  she  knew  none 
of  them,  now  proved  that  her  wild  fashion  had  been 
but  wil fulness,  since  it  was  seen  that  she  must  have 
observed  and  marked  manners  with  the  best.  There 
seemed  no  decorum  she  did  not  know  how  to  observe 
with  the  most  natural  grace.  It  was  indeed  all  grace 
and  majesty,  there  being  no  suggestion  of  the  prude 
about  her,  but  rather  the  manner  of  a  young  lady 
having  been  born  with  pride  and  stateliness,  and  most 
carefully  bred.  This  was  the  result  of  her  wondrous 
wit,  the  highness  of  her  talents,  and  the  strength  of 
her  will,  which  was  of  such  power  that  she  could  carry 
out  without  fail  anything  she  chose  to  undertake. 
There  are  some  women  who  have  beauty  and  some 


66  A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

who  have  wit,  or  vigor  of  understanding,  but  she 
possessed  all  three,  and  with  them  such  courage  and 
strength  of  nerve  as  would  have  well  equipped  a  man. 

Quick  as  her  wit  was,  and  ready  as  were  her  bril- 
liant quips  and  sallies,  there  was  no  levity  in  her  de- 
meanor, and  she  kept  Mistress  Margery  Wimpole  in 
discreet  attendance  upon  her,  as  if  she  had  been  the 
daughter  of  a  Spanish  hidalgo,  never  to  be  approached 
except  in  the  presence  of  her  duenna.  Poor  Mistress 
Margery,  finding  her  old  fears  removed,  was  over- 
powered with  new  ones.  She  had  no  lawlessness  or 
hoyden  manners  to  contend  with,  but  instead,  a 
haughtiness  so  high  and  demand  so  great,  that  her 
powers  could  scarcely  satisfy  the  one  or  her  spirit 
stand  up  before  the  other. 

"It  is  as  if  one  were  lady-in-waiting  to  her  Maj- 
esty's self,"  she  used  to  whimper  when  she  was  alone 
and  dare  do  so.  "Surely  the  Queen  has  not  such  a 
will  and  such  a  temper.  She  will  have  me  toil  to 
look  worthy  of  her  in  my  habit,  and  bear  myself  like 
a  duchess  in  dignity.  Alack,  I  have  practised  my 
obeisance  by  the  hour  to  perfect  it,  so  that  I  may 
escape  her  wrath.  And  I  must  know  how  to  look, 
and  when  and  where  to  sit,  and  with  what  air  of 
being  near  at  hand,  while  I  must  see  nothing!  And 
I  must  drag  my  failing  limbs  hither  and  thither  with 
genteel  ease  while  I  ache  from  head  to  foot,  being 
neither  young  nor  strong." 

The  poor  lady  was  so  overawed  by,  and  yet  so  ad- 
mired her  charge,  that  it  was  piteous  to  behold. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  67 

"She  is  an  arrant  fool,"  quoth  Mistress  Clorinda  to 
her  father.  "A  nice  duenna  she  would  be,  forsooth,  if 
she  were  with  a  woman  to  watch  her!  She  could  be 
hoodwinked  as  it  pleased  me  a  dozen  times  a  day.  It 
is  I  who  am  her  guard,  not  she  mine.  But  a  beauty 
must  drag  some  spy  about  with  her,  it  seems,  and  she 
I  can  make  to  obey  me  like  a  spaniel.  We  can  afford 
no  better,  and  she  is  well  born,  and  since  I  bought  her 
the  purple  paduasoy  and  the  new  lappets  she  has 
looked  well  enough  to  serve." 

"Dunstanwolde  need  not  fear  for  thee  now,"  said 
Sir  Jeoffry.  "Thou  art  a  clever  and  foreseeing  wench, 
Clo." 

"Dunstanwolde  nor  any  man!"  she  answered. 
"There  will  be  no  gossip  of  me.  It  is  Anne  and  Bar- 
bara thou  must  look  to,  Dad,  lest  their  plain  faces  lead 
them  to  show  soft  hearts.  My  face  is  my  fortune." 

When  Sir  John  Oxon  paid  his  visit  to  Sir  Jeoffry, 
the  days  of  Mistress  Margery  were  filled  with  carking 
care.  The  night  before  he  arrived,  Mistress  Clorinda 
called  her"  to  her  closet  and  laid  upon  her  her  com- 
mands in  her  own  high  way.  She  was  under  her 
woman's  hands,  and  while  her  great  mantle  of  black 
hair  fell  over  the  back  of  her  chair  and  lay  on  the 
floor,  her  tire-woman  passing  the  brush  over  it,  lock 
by  lock,  she  was  at  her  greatest  beauty.  Either  she 
had  been  angered  or  pleased,  for  her  cheek  wore  a 
bloom  even  deeper  and  richer  than  usual,  and  there 
was  a  spark  like  a  diamond  under  the  fringe  of  her 
lashes. 


68  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

At  her  first  timorous  glance  at  her,  Mistress  Mar- 
gery thought  she  must  have  been  angered,  the  spark 
so  burned  in  her  eyes,  and  so  evident  was  the  light  but 
quick  heave  of  her  bosom,  but  the  next  moment  it 
seemed  as  if  she  must  be  in  a  pleasant  humor,  for  a 
little  smile  deepened  the  dimples  in  the  corner  of  her 
bowed  full  lips.  But  quickly  she  looked  up  and  re- 
sumed her  stately  air. 

"This  gentleman  who  comes  to  visit  to-morrow," 
she  said,  "Sir  John  Oxon — do  you  know  aught  of 
him?" 

"But  little,  madam,"  Mistress  Margery  answered 
with  fear  and  humility. 

"Then  it  will  be  well  that  you  should,  since  I  have 
commands  to  lay  upon  you  concerning  him,"  said  the 
beauty. 

"You  do  me  honor,"  said  the  poor  gentlewoman. 

Mistress  Clorinda  looked  her  straight  in  the  face. 

"He  is  a  gentleman  from  town,  the  kinsman  of  Lord 
Eldershawe,"  she  said.  "He  is  a  handsome  man,  con- 
cerning whom  many  women  have  been  fools.  He 
chooses  to  allow  it  to  be  said  that  he  is  a  conqueror 
of  female  hearts  and  virtue,  even  among  women  of 
fashion  and  rank.  If  this  be  said  in  the  town,  what 
may  not  be  said  in  the  country?  He  shall  wear  no 
such  graces  here.  He  chooses  to  pay  his  court  to  me. 
He  is  my  father's  guest  and  a  man  of  fashion.  Let 
him  make  as  many  fine  speeches  as  he  has  the  will  to. 
I  will  listen  or  not  as  I  choose,  I  am  used  to  words. 
But  see  that  we  are  not  left  alone." 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY  69 

The  tire-woman  pricked  up  her  ears.  Clorinda  saw 
her  in  the  glass. 

"Attend  to  thy  business  if  thou  dost  not  want  a  box 
o'  the  ear,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  which  made  the  woman 
start. 

"You  would  not  be  left  alone  with  the  gentleman, 
madam,"  faltered  Mistress  Margery. 

"If  he  comes  to  boast  of  conquests,"  said  Mistress 
Clorinda,  looking  at  her  straight  again  and  drawing 
down  her  black  brows,  "I  will  play  as  cleverly  as  he. 
He  can  not  boast  greatly  of  one  whom  he  never  makes 
his  court  to  but  in  the  presence  of  a  kinswoman  of  ripe 
years.  Understand  that  this  be  your  task." 

"I  will  remember,  madam,"  answered  Mistress  Mar- 
gery; "I  will  bear  myself  as  you  command." 

"That  is  well,"  said  Mistress  Clorinda,  "I  will  keep 
you  no  more.  You  may  go." 


CHAPTER   VI 

RELATING  HOW   MISTRESS  ANNE  DISCOVERED  A 
MINIATURE 

THE  good  gentlewoman  took  her  leave  gladly.  She 
had  spent  a  life  in  timid  fears  of  such  things  and  per- 
sons as  were  not  formed  by  Nature  to  excite  them,  but 
never  had  she  experienced  such  humble  terrors  as 
those  with  which  Mistress  Clorinda  inspired  her. 
Never  did  she  approach  her  without  inward  tremor, 
and  never  did  she  receive  permission  to  depart  from 
her  presence  without  relief.  And  yet  her  beauty  and 
wit  and  spirit  had  no  admirer  regarding  them  with 
more  of  wondering  awe. 

In  the  bare  west  wing  of  the  house,  comfortless 
though  the  neglect  of  its  master  had  made  it,  there 
was  one  corner  where  she  was  unafraid.  Her  first 
charges,  Mistress  Barbara  and  Mistress  Anne,  were 
young  ladies  of  gentle  spirit.  Their  sister  had  said 
of  them  that  their  spirit  was  as  poor  as  their  looks. 
It  could  not  be  said  of  them  by  any  one  that  they  had 
any  pretension  to  beauty,  but  that  which  Mistress  Clo- 
rinda rated  at  as  poor  spirit  was  the  one  element  of 
comfort  in  their  poor  dependent  kinswoman's  life. 
70 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY  71 

They  gave  her  no  ill  words,  they  indulged  in  no  fan- 
tastical whims  and  vapors,  and  they  did  not  even  seem 
to  expect  other  entertainment  than  to  walk  the  coun- 
try roads,  to  play  with  the  little  lap-dog  Cupid,  wind 
silks  for  their  needlework,  and  please  themselves  with 
their  embroidery  frames. 

To  them  their  sister  appeared  a  goddess  whom  it 
would  be  presumptuous  to  approach  in  any  frame  of 
mind  quite  ordinary.  Her  beauty  must  be  heightened 
by  rich  adornments,  while  their  plain  looks  were  left 
without  the  poorest  aid.  It  seemed  but  fitting  that 
what  there  was  to  spend  must  be  spent  on  her.  They 
showed  no  signs  of  resentment,  and  took  with  grati- 
tude such  cast-off  finery  as  she  deigned  at  times  to 
bestow  upon  them,  when  it  was  no  longer  useful  to 
herself.  She  was  too  full  of  the  occupations  of  pleas- 
ure to  have  had  time  to  notice  them  even  if  her  nature 
had  inclined  her  to  the  observance  of  family  affec- 
tions. It  was  their  habit,  when  they  knew  of  her 
going  out  in  state,  to  watch  her  incoming  and  out- 
going, through  a  peep-hole  in  a  chamber  window. 
Mistress  Margery  told  them  stories  of  her  admirers 
and  of  her  triumphs,  of  the  county  gentlemen  of  for- 
tune who  had  offered  themselves  to  her,  and  of  the 
modes  of  life  in  town,  of  the  handsome  Sir  John 
Oxon,  who,  without  doubt,  was  of  the  circle  of  her 
admiring  attendants,  if  he  had  not  fallen  totally  her 
victim  as  others  had. 

Of  the  two  young  women  it  was  Mistress  Anne  who 
had  the  more  parts,  and  the  attraction  of  the  mind  the 


72  A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

least  dull.  In  sooth,  Nature  had  dealt  with  both  in 
a  niggardly  fashion,  but  Mistress  Barbara  was  the 
plainer  and  the  more  foolish.  Mistress  Anne  had  per- 
chance the  tenderer  feelings  and  was  in  secret  given 
to  a  certain  sentimentality.  She  was  thin  and  stoop- 
ing and  had  but  a  muddy  complexion;  her  hair  was 
heavy,  it  is  true,  but  its  thickness  and  weight  seemed 
naught  but  an  ungrateful  burden,  and  she  had  a  dull, 
soft  eye.  In  private  she  was  fond  of  reading  such 
romances  as  she  could  procure  by  stealth  from  the 
library  of  books  gathered  together  in  past  times  by 
some  ancestor  Sir  Jeoffry  regarded  as  an  idiot.  Doubt- 
less she  met  with  strange  reading  in  the  volumes  she 
took  to  her  closet,  and  her  simple  virgin  mind  found 
cause  for  the  solving  of  many  problems,  but  from  tlie 
pages  she  contrived  to  cull  stories  of  lordly  lovers  and 
cruel  or  kind  beauties,  whose  romances  created  for 
her  a  strange  world  of  pleasure  in  the  midst  of  her 
loneliness.  Poor  neglected  young  female,  with  every 
guileless  maiden  instinct  withered  at  birth,  she  had 
need  of  some  tender  dreams  to  dwell  upon,  though 
Fate  herself  seemed  to  have  decreed  that  they  must 
be  no  more  than  visions. 

It  was  in  sooth  always  the  beauteous  Clorinda  about 
whose  charms  she  builded  her  romances.  In  her  great 
power  she  saw  that  for  which  knights  fought  in  tour- 
ney, and  great  kings  committed  royal  sins,  and  to  her 
splendid  beauty  she  had  in  secrecy  felt  that  all  might 
be  forgiven.  She  cherished  such  fancies  of  her  that 
one  morning  when  she  believed  her  absent  from  the 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY  73 

house,  she  stole  into  the  corridor  upon  which  Clo- 
rinda's  apartment  opened.  Her  first  timid  thought 
had  been  that  if  a  chamber  door  were  opened  she 
might  catch  a  glimpse  of  some  of  the  splendors  her 
sister's  woman  was  surely  laying  out  for  her  wearing 
at  a  birth-night  ball  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  gentry 
of  the  neighborhood. 

But  it  so  happened  that  she  really  found  the  door  of 
entrance  open,  which  indeed  she  had  not  more  than 
dared  to  hope,  and  finding  it  so  she  stayed  her  foot- 
steps to  gaze  with  beating  heart  within.  On  the  great 
bed,  which  was  of  carved  oak,  and  canopied  with  tat- 
tered tapestry,  there  lay  spread  such  splendors  as  she 
had  never  beheld  near  to  before.  'Twas  blue  and  sil- 
ver brocade  Mistress  Clorinda  was  to  shine  in  to- 
night; it  lay  spread  forth  in  all  its  dimensions;  the 
beautiful  bosom  and  shoulders  were  to  be  bared  to  the 
eyes  of  scores  of  adorers,  but  rich  lace  was  to  set 
their  beauties  forth,  and  strings  of  pearls.  Why  Sir 
Jeoffry  had  not  sold  his  lady's  jewels  before  he  be- 
came enamored  of  her  six-year-old  child  it  would  be 
hard  to  explain.  There  was  a  great  painted  fan  with 
jewels  in  the  sticks,  and  on  the  floor — as  if  peeping 
forth  from  beneath  the  bravery  of  the  expanded  petti- 
coats— was  a  pair  of  blue  and  silver  shoes,  high  heeled 
and  arched  and  slender.  In  gazing  at  them  Mistress 
'Anne  lost  her  breath  thinking  that  in  some  fashion 
they  had  a  regal  air  of  being  made  to  trample  hearts 
beneath  them. 

To  the  gentle  hapless  virgin,  to  whom  such  posses- 

4  VOL.  2 


74  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

sions  were  as  the  wardrobe  of  a  queen,  the  temptation 
to  behold  them  nearby  was  too  great.  She  could  not 
forbear  from  passing  the  threshold,  and  she  did  with 
heaving  breast.  She  approached  the  bed  and  gazed, 
she  dared  to  touch  the  scented  gloves  that  lay  by  the 
outspread  petticoat  of  blue  and  silver,  she  even  laid  a 
trembling  finger  upon  the  pointed  bodice,  which  was  so 
slender  that  it  seemed  small  enough  for  even  a  child. 

"Ah  me,"  she  sighed  gently,  "how  beautiful  she  will 
be!  How  beautiful,  and  all  of  them  will  fall  at  her 
feet,  as  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  And  it  was  always 
so  all  her  life,  even  when  she  was  an  infant,  and  all 
gave  her  her  will  because  of  her  beauty  and  her  power. 
She  hath  a  great  power.  Barbara,  and  I  are  not  so. 
We  are  dull  and  weak  and  dare  not  speak  our  minds. 
It  is  as  if  we  were  creatures  of  another  world.  But 
He  who  rules  all  things  has  so  willed  it  for  us.  He 
has  given  it  to  us  for  our  portion — our  portion." 

Her  dull  poor  face  drooped  a  little  as  she  spoke  the 
words,  and  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  beauteous  tiny  shoes 
which  seemed  to  trample  even  when  no  foot  was  within 
them.  She  stooped  to  take  one  in  her  hand,  but  as 
she  was  about  to  lift  it,  something  which  seemed  to 
have  been  dropped  upon  the  floor  and  to  have  rolled 
beneath  the  valance  of  the  bed,  touched  her  hand.  It 
was  a  thing  to  which  a  ribband  was  attached,  an  ivory 
miniature,  and  she  picked  it  up  wondering.  She  stood 
up  gazing  at  it,  in  such  bewilderment  to  find  her  eyes 
upon  it,  that  she  scarce  knew  what  she  did.  She  did 
not  mean  to  pry,  she  would  not  have  had  the  daring  so 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  75 

to  do  if  she  had  possessed  the  inclination.  But  the  in- 
stant her  eyes  told  her  what  they  saw,  she  started  and 
blushed  as  she  had  never  blushed  before  in  her  tame 
life.  The  warm  rose  mantled  her  cheeks  and  even 
suffused  the  neck  her  chaste  kerchief  hid.  Her  eye 
kindled  with  admiration  and  an  emotion  new  to  her 
indeed. 

"How  beautiful,"  she  said.  "He  is  like  a  young 
Adonis  and  has  the  bearing  of  a  royal  prince!  How 
can  it — by  what  strange  chance  hath  it  come  here !" 

She  had  not  regarded  it  more  than  long  enough  fo 
have  uttered  these  words  when  a  fear  came  upon  her, 
and  she  felt  that  she  had  fallen  into  misfortune. 

"What  must  I  do  with  it,"  she  trembled.  "What 
will  she  say,  whether  she  knows  of  its  being  within 
the  chamber  or  not.  She  will  be  angry  with  me  that 
I  have  dared  to  touch  it.  What  shall  I  do?" 

She  regarded  it  again  with  eyes  almost  suffused. 
Her  blush  and  the  sensibility  of  her  emotion  gave  to 
her  plain  countenance  a  new  liveliness  of  tint  and  ex- 
pression. 

"I  will  put  it  back  where  I  found  it/'  she  said,  "and 
the  one  who  knows  it  will  find  it  later.  It  can  not  be 
she — it  can  not  be  she!  If  I  laid  it  on  her  table  she 
would  rate  me  bitterly.  And  she  can  be  bitter  when 
she  will." 

She  bent  and  placed  it  within  the  shadow  of  the 
valance  again,  and  as  she  felt  it  touch  the  hard  oak 
of  the  polished  floor  her  bosom  rose  with  a  soft  sigh. 

"It  is  an  unseemly  thing  to  do,"  she  said;  "  'tis  as 


76  A    LADY   OF   QUALITY 

though  one  were  uncivil — but  I  dare  not — I  dare  not 
do  otherwise." 

She  would  have  turned  to  leave  the  apartment,  be- 
ing much  overcome  by  the  incident,  but  just  as  she 
would  have  done  so  she  heard  the  sound  of  horses' 
feet  through  the  window  by  which  she  must  pass,  and 
looked  out  to  see  if  it  was  Clorinda  who  was  return- 
ing from  her  ride.  Mistress  Clorinda  was  a  matchless 
horsewoman,  and  a  marvel  of  loveliness  and  spirit  she 
looked  when  she  rode,  sitting  upon  a  horse  such  as  no 
other  woman  dared  to  mount,  always  an  animal  of 
the  greatest  beauty,  but  of  so  dangerous  a  spirit  that 
her  riding-whip  was  loaded  like  a  man's. 

This  time  it  was  not  she,  and  when  Mistress  Anne 
beheld  the  young  gentleman  who  had  drawn  rein  in 
the  court,  she  started  backward  and  put  her  hand  to 
her  heart,  the  blood  mantling  her  pale  cheek  again  in 
a  flood.  But  having  started  back,  the  next  instant  she 
started  forward  to  gaze  again,  all  her  timid  soul  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Tis  he !"  she  panted ;  "  'tis  he  himself !  He  hath 
come  in  hope  to  speak  with  my  sister  and  she  is  abroad. 
Poor  gentleman,  he  hath  come  in  such  high  spirit,  and 
must  ride  back  heavy  of  heart.  How  comely,  and 
how  finely  clad  he  is !" 

He  was  in  sooth — with  his  rich  riding-habit,  his 
handsome  face,  his  plumed  hat,  and  the  sun  shining  on 
the  fair  luxuriant  locks  which  fell  beneath  it.  It  was 
Sir  John  Oxon,  and  he  was  habited  as  when  he  rode 
in  the  park  in  town  and  the  Court  was  there.  Not  so 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY  77 

were  attired  the  country  gentry,  whom  Anne  had  been 
wont  to  see,  though  many  of  them  were  well  mounted, 
knowing  horseflesh  and  naught  else,  as  they  did. 

She  pressed  her  cheek  against  the  side  of  the  oriel 
window,  over  which  the  ivy  grew  thickly;  she  was  so 
intent  that  she  could  not  withdraw  her  gaze.  She 
watched  him  as  he  turned  away,  having  received  his 
dismissal,  and  she  pressed  her  face  closer,  that  she 
might  follow  him  as  he  rode  down  the  long  avenue 
of  oak  trees,  his  servant  riding  behind. 

Thus  she  bent  forward  gazing,  until  he  turned  and 
the  oaks  hid  him  from  her  sight,  and  even  then  the 
spell  was  not  dissolved,  and  she  still  regarded  the  place 
where  he  had  passed  until  a  sound  behind  her  made 
her  start  violently.  It  was  a  peal  of  laughter,  high 
and  rich,  and  when  she  so  started  and  turned  to  see 
whom  it  might  be,  she  beheld  her  sister  Clorinda,  who 
was  standing  just  within  the  threshold  as  if  move- 
ment had  been  arrested  by  what  had  met  her  eye  as 
she  came  in.  Poor  Anne  put  her  hand  to  her  side 
again. 

"Oh,  sister!"  she  gasped;  "oh,  sister!'*  but  could 
no  more. 

She  saw  that  she  had  thought  falsely,  and  that  Clo- 
rinda had  not  been  out  at  all,  for  she  was  in  home  at- 
tire. And  even  in  the  midst  of  her  trepidation  there 
sprang  into  Anne's  mind  the  awful  thought  that 
through  some  servant's  blunder  the  comely  young 
visitor  had  been  sent  away.  For  herself,  she  expected 
but  to  be  driven  forth  with  wrathful,  disdainful 


78  A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

words  for  her  presumption.  For  what  else  could  she 
hope  from  this  splendid  creature,  who,  while  of  her 
own  flesh  and  blood,  had  never  seemed  to  regard  her 
as  being  more  than  a  poor  superfluous  underling.  But, 
strangely  enough,  there  was  no  anger  in  Clorinda's 
eyes;  she  but  laughed  as  though  what  she  had  seen 
had  made  her  merry. 

"You  here,  Anne,"  she  said,  "and  looking  with  light- 
mindedness  after  gallant  gentlemen.  Mistress  Mar- 
gery should  see  to  this  and  watch  more  closely,  or  we 
shall  have  unseemly  stories  told.  You,  sister,  with 
your  modest  face  and  bash  fulness !  I  had  not  thought 
it  of  you." 

Suddenly  she  crossed  the  room  to  where  her  sister 
stood  drooping,  and  seized  her  by  the  shoulder  so  that 
she  could  look  her  well  in  the  face. 

"What,"  she  said  with  a  mocking  not  quite  harsh — 
"what  is  this !  Does  a  glance  at  a  fine  gallant,  even 
taken  from  behind  an  oriel  window,  make  such  change 
indeed!  I  never  before  saw  this  look,  nor  this  color, 
forsooth.  It  had  improved  thee  wondrously,  Anne — 
wondrously." 

"Sister,"  faltered  Anne,  "I  so  desired  to  see  your 
birth-night  ball  gown,  of  which  Mistress  Margery  hath 
much  spoken — I  so  desired — I  thought  it  would  not 
matter  if,  the  door  being  open  and  it  spread  forth 
upon  the  bed — I — I  stole  a  look  at  it.  And  then  I 
was  tempted — and  came  in." 

"And  then  was  tempted  more,"  Clorinda  laughed, 
still  regarding  her  downcast  countenance  shrewdly, 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  79 

"by  a  thing  far  less  to  be  resisted — a  fine  gentleman 
from  town,  with  lovelocks  falling  on  his  shoulders  and 
ladies'  hearts  strung  at  his  saddle-bow  by;,  scores. 
Which  found  you  the  most  beautiful?" 

"Your  gown  is  splendid,  sister,"  said  Anne,  with 
modest  shyness;  "there  will  be  no  beauty  who  will 
wear  another  like  it — or  should  there  be  one  she  will 
not  carry  it  as  you  will." 

"But  the  man — the  man,  Anne,"  Clorinda  laughed 
again.  "What  of  the  man?" 

Anne  plucked  up  just  enough  of  her  poor  spirit  to 
raise  her  eyes  to  the  brilliant  ones  that  mocked  at  her. 

"With  such  gentlemen,  sister,"  she  said,  "is  it  like 
that  /  have  aught  to  do?" 

Mistress  Clorinda  dropped  her  hand  and  left 
laughing. 

"  "Tis  true,"  she  said,  "it  is  not — but  for  this  one 
time,  Anne,  thou  lookest  almost  a  woman." 

"  'Tis  not  beauty  alone  that  makes  womanhood," 
said  Anne,  her  head  on  her  breast  again.  "In  some 
book  I  have  read  that — that  it  is  mostly  pain.  I  am 
woman  enough  for  that." 

"You  have  read — you  have  read,"  quoted  Clorinda; 
"you  are  the  bookworm,  I  remember,  and  filch  ro- 
mances and  poems  from  the  shelves.  And  you  have 
read  that  it  is  mostly  pain  that  makes  a  woman  ?  Tis 
not  true.  'Tis  a  poor  lie.  I  am  a  woman  and  I  do  not 
suffer — for  I  will  not,  that  I  swear !  And  when  I  take 
an  oath,  I  keep  it,  mark  you !  It  is  men  women  suffer 
for;  that  was  what  your  scholar  meant — for  such  fine 


8o  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

gentlemen  as  the  one  you  have  just  watched  while  he 
rode  away.  More  fools  they !  No  man  shall  make  me 
womanly  in  such  a  fashion,  I  promise  you !  Let  them 
wince  and  kneel — 7  will  not." 

"Sister,"  Anne  faltered,  "I  thought  you  were  not 
within.  The  gentleman  who  rode  away — did  the  ser- 
vants know — " 

"That  did  they,"  quoth  Clorinda,  mocking  again; 
"they  knew  that  I  would  not  receive  him  to-day,  and  so 
sent  him  away.  He  might  have  known  as  much  him- 
self, but  he  is  an  arrant  popinjay  and  thinks  all  women 
wish  to  look  at  his  fine  shape,  and  hear  him  flatter 
them  when  he  is  in  the  mood." 

"You  would  not — let  him  enter?" 

Clorinda  threw  her  graceful  body  into  a  chair  with 
more  light  laughter. 

"I  would  not,"  she  answered.  "You  can  not  under- 
stand such  ingratitude,  poor  Anne;  you  would  have 
treated  him  more  softly.  Sit  down  and  talk  to  me, 
and  I  will  show  thee  my  furbelows  myself.  All 
women  like  to  chatter  of  their  laced  bodices  and  petti- 
coats. That  is  what  makes  a  woman." 

Anne  was  tremulous  with  relief  and  pleasure.  It 
was  as  if  a  queen  had  bid  her  to  be  seated.  She  sat 
almost  with  the  humble  lack  of  ease  a  serving-woman 
might  have  shown.  She  had  never  seen  Clorinda  wear 
such  an  air  before,  and  never  had  she  dreamed  that 
she  would  so  open  herself  to  any  fellow  creature.  She 
knew  but  little  of  what  her  sister  was  capable — of  the 
brilliancy  of  her  charm  when  she  chose  to  condescend, 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY  81 

of  the  deigning  softness  of  her  manner  when  she  chose 
to  please,  of  her  arch  pleasantries  and  cutting  wit,  and 
of  the  strange  power  she  could  wield  over  any  human 
being,  gentle  or  simple,  with  whom  she  came  in  con- 
tact. But  if  she  had  not  known  of  these  things  before, 
she  learned  to  know  them  this  morning.  For  some 
reason  best  known  to  herself,  Mistress  Clorinda  was 
in  a  high  good  humor.  She  kept  Anne  with  her  for 
more  than  an  hour,  and  was  dazzling  through  every 
moment  of  its  passing.  She  showed  her  the  splendors 
she  was  to  shine  in  at  the  birth-night  ball,  even  bring- 
ing forth  her  jewels  and  displaying  them.  She  told 
her  stories  of  the  house  of  which  the  young  heir  to-day 
attained  his  majority,  and  mocked  at  the  poor  youth 
because  he  was  ungainly,  and  at  a  distance  had  been 
her  slave  since  his  nineteenth  year. 

"I  have  scarce  looked  at  him,"  she  said.  "He  is  a 
lout,  with  great  eyes  staring,  and  a  red  nose.  It  does 
not  need  that  one  should  look  at  men  to  win  them. 
They  look  at  us  and  that  is  enough." 

To  poor  Mistress  Anne,  who  had  seen  no  company 
and  listened  to  no  wits,  the  entertainment  bestowed 
upon  her  was  as  wonderful  as  a  night  at  the  playhouse 
would  have  been.  To  watch  the  old  changing  face, 
to  harken  to  jesting  stories  of  men  and  women  who 
seemed  like  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  her  romances, 
to  hear  love  itself — the  love  she  trembled  and  palpi- 
tated at  the  mere  thought  of — spoken  of  openly  as  an 
experience  which  fell  to  all,  to  hear  it  mocked  at  with 
dainty  or  biting  quips,  to  learn  that  women  of  all 


82  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

ages  played  with,  enjoyed,  or  lost  themselves  for  it — 
it  was  with  her  as  if  a  nun  had  been  withdrawn  from 
her  cloister  and  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  the  world. 

"Sister,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  Beauty  with 
humble,  adoring  eyes,  "you  make  me  feel  that  my 
romances  are  true.  You  tell  such  things.  It  is  like 
seeing  pictures  of  things  to  hear  you  talk.  No  wonder 
that  all  listen  to  you,  for  indeed  'tis  wonderful  the  way 
you  have  with  words.  You  use  them  so  that  'tis  as 
though  they  had  shapes  of  their  own  and  colors — and 
you  builded  with  them.  I  thank  you  for  being  so 
gracious  to  me,  who  have  seen  so  little  and  can  not 
tell  the  poor  quiet  things  I  have  seen." 

And  being  led  into  the  loving  boldness  by  her  grati- 
tude, she  bent  forward  and  touched  with  her  lips  the 
fair  hand  resting  on  the  chair's  arm. 

Mistress  Clorinda  fixed  her  fine  eyes  upon  her  in  a 
new  way. 

"F  faith  it  does  not  seem  fair,  Anne,"  she  said;  "I 
should  not  like  to  change  lives  with  thee.  Thou  hast 
eyes  like  a  shot  pheasant — soft  and  with  the  bright  hid 
beneath  the  dull.  Some  man  might  love  them,  even 
if  thou  art  no  beauty.  Stay" — suddenly.  "Me- 
thinks — " 

She  uprose  from  her  chair  and  went  to  the  oaken 
wardrobe  and  threw  the  door  of  it  open  wide  while 
she  looked  within. 

"There  is  a  gown  and  a  tippet  or  so  here,  and  a 
hood  and  some  ribbands  I  might  do  without,"  she  said. 
"My  woman  shall  bear  them  to  your  chamber  and 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY  83 

show  you  how  to  set  them  to  rights.  She  is  a  nimble- 
fingered  creature,  and  a  gown  of  mine  would  give  al- 
most stuff  enough  to  make  you  two.  Then  some  days 
when  I  am  not  going  abroad  and  Mistress  Margery 
frets  me  too  much,  I  will  send  for  you  to  sit  with  me, 
and  you  shall  come  and  listen  to  the  gossip  when  a 
visitor  drops  in  to  have  a  dish  of  tea." 

Anne  would  have  kissed  her  feet  then  if  she 
had  dared  to  do  so.  She  blushed  red  all  over, 
and  adored  her  with  a  more  worshiping  gaze 
than  before. 

"I  should  not  have  dared  to  hope  so  much,"  she 
stammered.  "I  could  not — perhaps  it  is  not  fitting — 
perhaps  I  could  not  bear  myself  as  I  should.  I  would 
try  to  show  myself  a  gentlewoman  and  seemly.  I 
— I  am  a  gentlewoman,  though  I  have  learned  so 
little.  I  could  not  be  aught  but  a  gentlewoman, 
could  I,  sister — being  of  your  own  blood  and 
my  parents'  child?"  half  afraid  to  presume  even 
chis  much. 

"No,"  said  Clorinda.  "Do  not  be  a  fool,  Anne,  and 
carry  yourself  too  humbly  before  the  world;  you  can 
be  as  humble  as  you  like  to  me."  » 

"I  shall — I  shall  be  your  servant,  and  worship  you, 
sister,"  cried  the  poor  soul,  and  she  drew  near  and 
kissed  again  the  white  hand  which  had  bestowed  with 
such  loyal  bounty  all  this  joy.  It  would  not  have  oc- 
curred to  her  that  a  cast-off  robe  and  ribband  were 
but  small  largesses.  It  was  not  a  minute  after  this 
grateful  caress  that  Clorinda  made  a  sharp  movement 


84  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

—a  movement  which  was  so  sharp  that  it  seemed 
to  be  one  of  dismay.  At  first,  as  if  involuntarily, 
she  had  raised  her  hand  to  her  tucker,  and  after 
doing  so  she  started — though  'twas  but  for  a  sec- 
ond's space,  after  which  her  face  was  as  it  had  been 
before. 

"What  is  it?"  exclaimed  Anne.  "Have  you  lost 
anything  ?" 

"No,"  quoth  Mistress  Clorinda,  quite  carelessly,  as 
she  once  more  turned  to  the  contents  of  the  oaken 
wardrobe;  "but  I  thought  I  missed  a  trinket  I  was 
wearing  for  a  wager,  and  I  would  not  lose  it  before 
the  bet  is  won." 

"Sister,"  ventured  Anne,  before  she  left  her  and 
went  away  to  her  own  dull  world  in  the  west  wing, 
"there  is  a  thing  I  can  do  if  you  will  allow  me.  I 
can  mend  your  tapestry  hangings  which  have  holes 
in  them.  I  am  quick  at  my  needle,  and  should  love 
to  serve  you  in  such  poor  ways  as  I  can — and  it  is 
not  seemly  that  they  should  be  so  worn.  All  things 
about  you  should  be  beautiful  and  well  kept." 

"Can  you  make  these  broken  things  beautiful  ?"  said 
Clorinda.  J'Then  indeed  you  shall.  You  may  come 
here  to  mend  them  when  you  will." 

"They  are  very  fine  hangings,  though  so  old  and 
ill-cared  for,"  said  Anne,  looking  up  at  them.  "And 
I  shall  be  only  too  happy  sitting  here  thinking  of  all 
you  are  doing  while  I  am  at  my  work." 

"Thinking  of  all  I  am  doing?"  laughed  Mistress 
Clorinda.  "That  would  give  you  such  wondrous 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  85 

things  to  dream  of,  Anne,  that  you  would  have  no 
time  for  your  needle,  and  my  hangings  would  stay 
as  they  are." 

"I  can  think  and  darn  also,"  said  Mistress  Anne. 
"So  I  will  come." 


CHAPTER   VII 

'TWAS  THE  FACE   OF  SIR  JOHN   OXON  THE   MOON 
SHONE    UPON 

FROM  that  time  henceforward  into  the  young 
woman's  dull  life  there  came  a  little  change.  It  did 
not  seem  a  little  change  to  her,  but  a  great  one, 
though  to  others  it  would  have  seemed  slight  indeed. 
She  was  an  affectionate,  housewifely  creature,  who 
would  have  made  the  best  of  wives  and  mothers,  if 
it  had  been  so  ordained  by  fortune,  and  something 
of  her  natural  instincts  found  outlet  in  the  furtive 
service  she  paid  her  sister,  who  became  the  empress 
of  her  soul.  She  darned  and  patched  the  tattered 
hangings  with  a  wonderful  neatness,  and  the  hours 
she  spent  at  work  in  the  chamber  were  to  her  almost 
as  sacred  as  hours  spent  at  religious  duty,  or  as  those 
nuns  and  novices  give  to  embroidering  altar-cloths. 
There  was  a  brightness  in  the  room  that  seemed  in 
no  other  in  the  house,  and  the  lingering  essences  in 
the  air  of  it  were  as  incense  to  her.  In  secrecy  she 
even  busied  herself  with  keeping  things  in  better  order 
than  Rebecca,  Mistress  Clorinda's  woman,  had  ever 
had  time  to  do  before.  She  also  contrived  to  get  in 
86 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  87 

her  own  hands  some  duties  that  were  Rebecca's  own. 
She  could  mend  lace  cleverly,  and  arrange  ribband 
knots  with  taste,  and  even  change  the  fashion  of  a 
gown.  The  hard-worked  tire-woman  was  but  too 
glad  to  be  relieved,  and  kept  her  secret  well,  being 
praised  many  times  for  the  set  or  fashion  of  a  thing 
into  which  she  had  not  so  much  as  set  a  needle. 
Being  a  shrewd  baggage,  she  was  wise  enough  al- 
ways to  relate  to  Anne  the  story  of  her  mistress's 
pleasure,  having  the  wit  to  read  in  her  delight  that 
she  would  be  encouraged  to  fresh  effort. 

At  times  it  so  befell  that  when  Anne  went  into  the 
bedchamber,  she  found  the  Beauty  there,  who,  if  she 
chanced  to  be  in  the  humor,  would  detain  her  in  her 
presence  for  a  space,  and  bewitch  her  over  again.  In 
sooth,  it  seemed  that  she  took  a  pleasure  in  showing 
her  female  adorer  how  wondrously  full  of  all  fascina- 
tions she  could  be.  At  such  times  Anne's  plain  face 
would  almost  bloom  with  excitement,  and  her  shot 
pheasant's  eyes  would  glow  as  if  beholding  a  goddess. 

She  neither  saw  nor  heard  more  of  the  miniature 
on  the  ribband.  It  used  to  make  her  tremble  at  times 
to  fancy  that,  by  some  strange  chance,  it  might  still 
be  under  the  bed,  and  that  the  handsome  face  smiled 
and  the  blue  eyes  gazed  in  the  very  apartment  where 
she  herself  sat  and  her  sister  was  robed  and  disrobed 
in  all  her  beauty. 

She  used  all  her  modest  skill  in  fitting  to  her  own 
shape  and  refurbishing  the  cast-off  bits  of  finery  be- 
stowed upon  her.  It  was  all  set  to  rights  long  before 


88  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

Clorinda  recalled  to  mind  that  she  had  promised  that 
Anne  should  some  time  see  her  chance  visitors  take 
their  dish  of  tea  with  her. 

But  one  day,  for  some  cause,  she  did  remember,  and 
sent  for  her. 

Anne  ran  to  her  bedchamber  and  donned  her  re- 
modeled gown  with  shaking  hands.  She  laughed  a 
little  hysterically  as  she  did  it,  seeing  her  plain,  snub- 
nosed  face  in  the  glass.  She  tried  tD  dress  her  head 
in  a  fashion  new  to  her,  and  knew  she  did  it  ill  and 
untidily,  but  had  no  time  to  change  it.  If  she  had 
had  some  red  she  would  have  put  it  on,  but  no  such 
vanities  were  in  her  chamber  or  Barbara's.  So  she 
rubbed  her  cheeks  hard  and  even  pinched  them,  so 
that  in  the  end  they  looked  as  if  they  were  badly 
rouged.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her  nose  grew  red  too, 
and  indeed  'twas  no  wonder,  for  her  hands  and  feet 
were  like  ice. 

"She  must  be  ashamed  of  me,"  the  humble  creature 
said  to  herself.  "And  if  she  is  ashamed  she  will  be 
angered,  and  send  me  away  and  be  friends  no  more." 

She  did  not  deceive  herself,  poor  thing,  and  imagine 
she  had  the  chance  of  being  regarded  with  any  great 
lenience  if  she  appeared  ill. 

"Mistress  Clorinda  begged  that  you  would  come 
quickly,"  said  Rebecca,  knocking  at  the  door. 

So  she  caught  her  handkerchief,  which  was  scented, 
as  all  her  garments  were,  with  dried  rose-kaves  from 
the  garden,  which  she  had  conserved  herself,  and  went 
down  to  the  chintz  parlor  trembling. 


A  LADY   OF   QUALITY  89 

It  was  a  great  room  with  white  panels,  and  flow- 
ered coverings  to  the  furniture;  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  ladies  and  gentlemen  standing  talking  and 
laughing  loudly  together.  The  men  outnumbered  the 
women,  and  most  of  them  stood  in  a  circle  about  Mis- 
tress Clorinda,  who  sat  upright  in  a  great  flowered 
chair,  smiling  with  her  mocking  stately  air  as  if  she 
defied  them  to  dare  to  speak  what  they  felt. 

Anne  came  in  like  a  mouse.  Nobody  saw  her.  She 
did  not  indeed  know  what  to  do.  She  dared  not  re- 
main standing  all  alone,  so  she  crept  to  the  place  where 
her  sister's  chair  was  and  stood  a  little  behind  its  high 
back.  Her  heart  beat  within  her  breast  till  it  was  like 
to  choke  her. 

There  were  only  country  gentlemen  who  made  the 
circle,  but  to  her  they  seemed  dashing  gallants.  That 
some  of  them  had  red  noses  as  well  as  cheeks,  and 
that  their  voices  were  big  and  their  gallantries  boister- 
ous, was  no  drawback  to  their  manly  charms,  because 
she  had  seen  no  other  finer  gentlemen.  They  were 
specimens  of  the  great  conquering  creature,  Man, 
whom  all  women  must  aspire  to  please  if  they  have 
the  fortunate  power — and  each  and  all  of  them  were 
plainly  trying  to  please  Clorinda,  and  not  she  them. 

And  so  Anne  gazed  at  them  with  admiring  awe, 
waiting  until  there  should  come  a  pause  in  which  she 
might  presume  to  call  her  sister's  attention  to  her 
presence;  but  suddenly,  before  she  had  indeed  made 
up  her  mind  how  she  might  best  announce  herself, 
there  spoke  behind  her  a  voice  of  silver. 


90  A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

"It  is  only  goddesses,"  said  the  voice,  "who  waft 
about  them  as  they  move  the  musk  of  the  rose  gar- 
dens of  Araby.  When  you  come  to  reign  over  us  in 
town,  madam,  there  will  be  no  perfume  in  the  mode 
but  that  of  rose-leaves,  and  in  all  drawing-rooms  we 
shall  breathe  but  their  perfume." 

And  there  at  her  side  was  bowing  to  her  sister,  in 
cinnamon  and  crimson,  with  jeweled  buttons  on  his 
velvet  coat,  the  beautiful  being  whose  fair  locks  the 
sun  had  shone  on  the  morning  she  had  watched  him 
ride  away — the  man  whom  the  imperial  beauty  had 
dismissed  and  called  a  popinjay. 

Clorinda  looked  under  her  lashes  toward  him  with- 
out turning,  but  in  so  doing  beheld  Anne  standing  in 
waiting. 

"A  fine  speech  lost,"  she  said,  "though  'twas  well 
enough  for  the  country,  Sir  John.  'Tis  thrown  away, 
because  'tis  not  I  who  am  scented  with  rose-leaves, 
but  Anne  there,  whom  you  must  not  ogle.  Come 
hither,  sister,  and  do  not  hide  as  if  you  were  ashamed 
to  be  looked  at." 

And  she  drew  her  forward;  and  there  Anne  stood, 
and  all  of  them  stared  at  her  poor,  plain,  blushing  face, 
and  the  Adonis  in  cinnamon  and  crimson  bowed  low 
as  if  she  had  been  a  duchess,  that  being  his  conquer- 
or's way  with  gentle  or  simple,  maid,  wife,  or  widow, 
beauty  or  homespun  uncomeliness. 

It  was  so  with  him  always — he  could  never  resist 
the  chance  of  luring  to  himself  a  woman's  heart, 
whether  he  wanted  it  or  not,  and  he  had  a  charm, 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY  91 

a  strange  and  wonderful  one,  it  could  not  be  denied. 
Anne  palpitated  indeed  as  she  made  her  courtesy  to 
him,  and  wondered  if  Heaven  had  ever  before  made 
so  fine  a  gentleman  and  so  beautiful  a  being. 

She  went  but  seldom  to  this  room  again,  and  when 
she  went  she  stood  always  in  the  background,  far  more 
in  fear  that  some  one  would  address  her  than  that  she 
should  meet  with  neglect.  She  was  used  to  neglect 
and  to  being  regarded  as  a  nonentity,  and  aught  else 
discomfited  her.  All  her  pleasure  was  to  hear  what 
was  said,  though  'twas  not  always  of  the  finest  wit, 
and  to  watch  Clorinda  play  the  queen  among  her  ad- 
mirers and  her  slaves.  She  would  not  have  dared  to 
speak  of  Sir  John  Oxon  frequently;  indeed,  she  let 
fall  his  name  but  rarely,  but  she  learned  a  curious  wit 
in  contriving  to  hear  all  things  concerning  him.  It 
was  her  habit  cunningly  to  lead  Mistress  Margery  to 
talking  about  him  and  relating  long  histories  of  his 
conquests  and  his  grace.  Mistress  Wimpole  knew 
many  of  them,  having,  for  a  staid  and  prudent  ma- 
tron, a  lively  interest  in  his  ways.  It  seemed  truly — 
if  one  must  believe  her  long-winded  stories,  that  no 
duchess  under  seventy  had  escaped  weeping  for  him 
and  losing  rest,  and  that  ladies  of  all  ranks  had  com- 
mitted follies  for  his  sake. 

Mistress  Anne,  having  led  her  to  this  fruitful  sub- 
ject, would  sit  and  listen,  bending  over  her  embroidery 
frame  with  strange  emotions,  causing  her  virgin  breast 
to  ache  with  their  swelling.  She  would  lie  awake  at 
night,  thinking  in  the  dark,  with  her  heart  beating. 


92  A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

Surely,  surely  there  was  no  other  man  on  earth  who 
was  so  fitted  to  Clorinda,  and  to  whom  it  was  so  suited 
that  this  empress  should  give  her  charms.  Surely  no 
woman,  however  beautiful  or  proud,  could  dismiss  his 
suit  when  he  pressed  it.  And  then,  poor  woman,  her 
imagination  strove  to  paint  the  splendor  of  their  mu- 
tual love,  though  of  such  love  she  knew  so  little.  But 
it  must  in  sooth  be  bliss  and  rapture;  and  perchance, 
was  her  humble  thought,  she  might  see  it  from  afar 
and  hear  of  it.  And  when  they  went  to  court,  and 
Clorinda  had  a  great  mansion  in  town  and  many  ser- 
vants who  needed  a  housewife's  eye  upon  their  doings 
to  restrain  them  from  wastefulness  and  riot,  might  it 
not  chance  to  be  that,  if  she  served  well  now  and  had 
the  courage  to  plead  with  her  then,  she  might  be  per- 
mitted to  serve  her  there,  living  quite  apart  in  some 
quiet  corner  of  the  house  ?  And  then  her  wild  thoughts 
would  go  so  far  that  she  would  dream — reddening  at 
her  own  boldness — of  a  child  who  might  be  born  to 
them — a  lordly  infant,  son  and  heir,  whose  eyes  might 
be  great  and  blue  and  winning,  and  his  hair  in  great 
fair  locks,  and  whom  she  might  nurse  and  tend  and 
be  a  slave  to — and  love — and  love — and  love,  and 
who  might  end  by  knowing  she  was  his  tender  ser- 
vant, always  to  be  counted  on,  and  might  look  at 
her  with  that  wooing,  laughing  glance,  and  even 
love  her  too. 

The  night  Clorinda  laid  her  commands  upon  Mis- 
tress Wimpole  concerning  the  coming  of  Sir  John 
Oxon,  that  matron,  after  receiving  them,  hurried  to 


A    LADY    OF  QUALITY  93 

her  other  charges,  flurried  and  full  of  talk,  and  poured 
forth  her  wonder  and  admiration  at  length. 

"She  is  a  wondrous  lady!"  she  said.  "She  is,  in- 
deed! It  is  not  alone  her  beauty,  but  her  spirit  and 
her  wit.  Mark  you,  how  she  sees  all  things  and  lets 
none  pass,  and  can  lay  a  plan  as  prudent  as  any  lady 
old  enough  to  be  twice  her  mother.  She  knows  all 
the  ways  of  the  world  of  fashion,  and  will  guard  her- 
self against  gossip  in  such  a  way  that  none  can  gain- 
say her  high  virtue.  Her  spirit  is  too  great  to  allow 
that  she  may  even  seem  to  be  as  the  town  ladies.  She 
will  not  have  it !  Sir  John  will  not  find  his  court  easy 
to  pay.  She  will  not  allow  that  he  shall  be  able  to 
say  to  any  one  that  he  has  seen  her  alone  a  moment. 
Thus,  she  says,  he  can  not  boast.  If  all  ladies  were 
as  wise  and  cunning,  there  would  be  no  tales  to  tell." 
She  talked  long  and  garrulously,  and  set  forth  to  them 
how  Mistress  Clorinda  had  looked  straight  at  her  with 
her  black  eyes  until  she  had  almost  shaken  as  she  sat, 
because  it  seemed  as  though  she  dared  her  to  disobey 
her  will.  And  how  she  had  sat  with  her  hair  trailing 
upon  the  floor  over  the  chair's  back;  and  at  first  it  had 
seemed  that  she  was  flushed  with  anger,  but  next  as 
if  she  had  smiled. 

"Betimes,"  said  Mistress  Wimpole,  "I  am  afraid 
when  she  smiles,  but  to-night  some  thought  had  crossed 
her  mind  that  pleased  her.  I  think  it  was  that  she 
liked  to  think  that  he  who  has  conquered  so  many 
ladies  will  find  that  he  is  to  be  outwitted  and  made  a 
mock  of.  She  likes  that  others  shall  be  beaten  if  she 


94  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

thinks  them  impudent.  She  liked  it  as  a  child,  and 
would  flog  the  stable-boys  with  her  little  whip  until 
they  knelt  to  beg  her  pardon  for  their  freedoms." 

That  night  Mistress  Anne  went  to  her  bedchamber 
with  her  head  full  of  wandering  thoughts,  and  she 
had  not  the  power  to  bid  them  disperse  themselves 
and  leave  her;  indeed,  she  scarce  wished  for  it.  She 
was  thinking  of  Clorinda,  and  wondering  sadly  that 
she  was  of  so  high  a  pride  that  she  could  bear  herself 
as  though  there  were  no  human  weakness  in  her  breast, 
not  even  the  womanly  weakness  of  a  heart.  How 
could  it  be  possible  that  she  could  treat  with  disdain 
this  gallant  gentleman  if  he  loved  her,  as  he  surely 
must?  Herself  she  had  been  sure  that  she  had  seen 
an  ardent  flame  in  his  blue  eyes  even  that  first  day, 
when  he  had  bowed  to  her  with  that  air  of  grace  as 
he  spoke  of  the  fragrance  of  the  rose-leaves  he  had 
thought  wafted  from  her  robe.  How  could  a  woman 
whom  he  loved  resist  him  ?  How  could  she  cause  him 
to  suffer  by  forcing  him  to  stand  at  arm's  length, 
when  he  sighed  to  draw  near  and  breathe  his  passion 
at  her  feet? 

In  the  silence  of  her  chamber  as  she  disrobed  she 
sighed  with  restless  pain,  but  did  not  know  that 
her  sighing  was  for  grief  that  love— of  which  there 
seemed  so  little  in  some  lives — could  be  wasted  and 
flung  away.  She  could  not  fall  into  slumber  when 
she  lay  down  upon  her  pillow,  but  tossed  from  side 
to  side  with  a  burdened  heart. 

"She  is  so  young  and  beautiful  and  proud,"  she 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY  95 

thought.  "It  is  because  I  am  so  much  older  that  I 
can  see  these  things — that  I  see  that  this  is  surely  the 
one  man  who  should  be  her  husband.  There  may  be 
many  others,  but  they  are  none  of  them  her  equals, 
and  she  would  scorn  and  hate  them  when  she  was 
once  bound  to  them  for  life.  This  one  is  as  beautiful 
as  she,  and  full  of  grace  and  wit  and  spirit.  She  could 
not  look  down  upon  him,  however  wroth  she  was  at 
any  time.  Ah,  me !  She  should  not  spurn  him,  surely 
she  should  not!" 

She  was  so  restless  and  ill  at  ease  that  she  could 
not  lie  upon  her  bed,  but  rose  therefrom,  as  she  often 
did  in  her  wakeful  hours,  and  went  to  her  lattice, 
gently  opening  it  to  look  out  upon  the  night  and  calm 
herself  by  sitting  with  her  face  uplifted  to  the  stars, 
which  from  her  childhood  she  had  fancied  looked 
down  upon  her  kindly,  and  as  if  they  would  give  her 
comfort. 

To-night  there  were  no  stars.  There  should  have 
been  a  moon  three-quarters  full,  but  in  the  evening 
clouds  had  drifted  across  the  sky  and  closed  over  all 
heavily,  so  that  no  moonlight  was  to  be  seen,  save 
when  a  rare  sudden  gust  made  a  ragged  rent,  for  a 
moment,  in  the  blackness. 

She  did  not  sit  this  time,  but  knelt  clad  in  her  night- 
rail  as  she  was.  All  was  sunk  into  the  profoundest 
silence  of  the  night.  By  this  time  the  entire  house- 
hold had  been  long  enough  abed  to  be  plunged  in  sleep. 
She  alone  was  waking,  and  being  of  that  simple  mind 
which,  like  a  child's,  must  ever  bear  its  trouble  to  a 


96  A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

protecting  strength,  she  looked  up  at  the  darkness  of 
the  cloudy  sky  and  prayed  for  the  better  fortune 
of  the  man  who  had  indeed  not  remembered  her 
existence  after  the  moment  he  had  made  her  his 
obeisance.  She  was  too  plain  and  sober  a  creature 
to  be  remembered. 

"Perchance,"  she  murmured,  "he  is  at  this  moment 
also  looking  at  the  clouds  from  his  window,  because 
he  can  not  sleep  for  thinking  that  in  two  days  he 
will  be  beneath  her  father's  roof,  and  will  see  her 
loveliness,  and  he  must  needs  be  contriving  within 
his  mind  what  he  will  say  if  she  do  but  look  as 
if  she  might  regard  him  with  favor,  which  I  pray 
she  will." 

From  the  path  below,  that  moment,  there  rose  a 
slight  sound — so  light  a  one  that  for  a  second  she 
thought  she  must  have  been  deceived  in  believing  it 
had  fallen  upon  her  ear.  All  was  still  after  it  for  full 
two  minutes,  and  had  she  heard  no  more  she  would 
have  surely  forgotten  she  had  heard  aught,  or  would 
have  believed  herself  but  the  victim  of  fancy.  But 
after  the  long  pause  the  same  sound  came  again, 
though  this  time  it  was  slighter;  yet  despite  its  slight- 
ness  it  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  crushing  of  the  earth 
and  stone  beneath  a  cautious  foot.  It  was  a  foot  so 
cautious  that  it  was  surely  stealthy,  and  scarce  dared 
to  advance  at  all.  And  then  all  was  still  again.  She 
was  for  a  moment  overcome  with  fears,  not  being  of 
a  courageous  temper,  and  having  heard  but  of  late 
of  a  bold  gipsy  vagabond  who,  with  a  companion, 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY  97 

had  broken  into  the  lower  rooms  of  a  house  of  the 
neighborhood,  and,  being  surprised  by  its  owner,  had 
only  been  overcome  and  captured  after  a  desperate 
fight,  in  which  shots  were  exchanged,  and  one  of  the 
hurriedly  awakened  servants  killed.  So  she  leaned 
forward  to  harken  further,  wondering  what  she  should 
do  to  best  alarm  the  house,  and  as  she  bent  so  she 
heard  the  sound  again  and  a  smothered  oath,  and 
with  her  straining  eyes  saw  that  surely  upon  the  path 
there  stood  a  dark-draped  figure.  She  rose  with  great 
care  to  her  feet  and  stood  a  moment  shaking  and 
clinging  to  the  window-ledge,  while  she  bethought 
her  of  what  servants  she  could  wake  first,  and  how 
she  could  reach  her  father's  room.  Her  poor  heart 
beat  in  her  side,  and,  as  her  breath  came  quickly,  the 
soundlessness  of  the  night  was  broken  by  one  of  the 
strange  sudden  gusts  of  wind  which  tossed  the  trees 
and  tore  at  the  clouds  as  they  hurried.  She  heard  the 
footstep  again,  as  if  it  feared  its  own  sound  the  less 
when  the  wind  might  cover  it.  A  faint  pale  gleam 
showed  between  two  dark  clouds,  behind  which  the 
moon  had  been  hidden;  it  grew  brighter,  and  a  jagged 
rent  was  torn,  so  that  the  moon  herself  for  a  sec- 
ond or  so  shone  out  dazzling  bright  before  the  clouds 
rushed  over  her  again  and  shut  her  in. 

It  was  at  this  very  instant  Mistress  Anne  heard  the 
footsteps  once  more,  and  saw  full  well  a  figure  in  dark 
cloak  and  hat,  which  stepped  quickly  into  the  shade  of 
a  great  tree.  But  more  she  saw — and  clapped  her  hand 
upon  her  mouth  to  stifle  the  cry  that  would  have  other- 
5  VOL.  2 


98  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

wise  risen  in  spite  of  her — that  notwithstanding  his 
fair  locks  were  thrust  out  of  sight  beneath  his  hat,  and 
he  looked  strange  and  almost  uncomely,  it  was  the  face 
of  Sir  John  Oxon,  the  moon,  bursting  through  the 
jagged  clouds,  had  shone  upon. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

TWO  MEET  IN   THE  DESERTED  ROSE-GARDEN,  AND  THE 

OLD   EARL   OF   DUNSTANWOLDE   IS    MADE  A 

HAPPY  MAN 

IT  was  not  until  three  days  later,  instead  of  two, 
that  Sir  John  Oxon  rode  into  the  courtyard  with  his 
servant  behind  him.  He  had  been  detained  on  his 
journey,  but  looked  as  if  his  impatience  had  not  caused 
him  to  suffer,  for  he  wore  his  finest  air  of  spirit  and 
beauty,  and  when  he  was  alone  with  Sir  Jeoffry  made 
his  compliments  to  the  absent  ladies,  and  inquired  of 
their  health  with  his  best  town  grace. 

Mistress  Clorinda  did  not  appear  until  the  dining 
hour,  when  she  swept  into  the  room  like  a  queen,  fol- 
lowed by  her  sister,  Anne,  and  Mistress  Wimpole,  this 
being  the  first  occasion  of  Mistress  Anne's  dining,  as  it 
were,  in  state,  with  her  family. 

The  honor  had  so  alarmed  her  that  she  looked  pale, 
and  so  ugly  that  Sir  Jeoffry  scowled  at  sight  of  her, 
and  swore  under  his  breath  to  Clorinda  that  she  should 
have  been  allowed  to  come. 

"I  know  my  own  affairs  the  best,  by  your  leave, 
sir,"  answered  Clorinda,  as  low  and  with  a  grand  flash 
of  her  eye.    "She  hath  been  drilled  well." 
09 


ioo         A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

This  she  had  indeed,  and  so  had  Mistress  Wimpole, 
and  throughout  Sir  John  Oxon's  stay  they  were  called 
upon  to  see  that  they  played  well  their  parts.  Two 
weeks  he  stayed,  and  then  rode  gaily  back  to  town, 
and  when  Clorinda  made  her  sweeping  courtesy  to  the 
ground  to  him  upon  the  threshold  of  the  flowered  room 
in  which  he  bade  her  farewell,  both  Anne  and  Mistress 
Wimpole  courtesied  a  step  behind  her. 

"Now  that  he  has  gone  and  you  have  shown  me 
that  you  can  attend  me  as  I  wish,"  she  said,  turning 
to  them  as  the  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs  died  away, 
"it  will  not  trouble  me  should  he  choose  some  day  to 
come  again.  He  has  not  carried  with  him  much  that 
he  can  boast  of." 

In  truth,  she  had  held  him  well  in  hand.  If  he  had 
come  as  a  sighing  lover,  the  whole  county  knew  she 
had  shown  him  but  small  favor.  She  had  invited  com- 
panies to  the  house  on  several  occasions,  and  all  could 
see  how  she  bore  herself  toward  him.  She  carried 
herself  with  a  certain  proud  courtesy  as  becoming  the 
daughter  of  his  host,  but  her  wit  did  not  spare  him, 
and  sometimes,  when  it  was  more  than  in  common 
cutting,  he  was  seen  to  wince,  though  he  held  himself 
gallantly. 

There  were  one  or  two  who  thought  they  now 
and  then  had  seen  his  blue  eyes  fall  upon  her 
when  he  believed  none  were  looking,  and  rest  there 
burning  for  a  moment,  but  'twas  never  for  more  than 
an  instant,  when  he  would  rouse  himself  with  a  start 
and  turn  away. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          101 

She  had  been  for  a  month  or  two  less  given  to  pas- 
sionate outbreaks,  having  indeed  decided  that  it  was 
to  her  interest  as  a  young  lady  and  a  future  great  one 
to  curb  herself. 

Her  tire-woman,  Rebecca,  had  begun  to  dare 
to  breathe  more  freely  when  she  was  engaged 
about  her  person,  and  had,  in  truth,  spoken  of  her 
pleasanter  fortune  among  her  fellows  in  the  ser- 
vants' hall. 

But  a  night  or  two  after  the  visitor  took  his  de- 
parture, she  gave  way  to  such  an  outburst  as  even 
Rebecca  had  scarce  ever  beheld,  being  roused  to  it  by 
a  small  thing  in  one  sense,  thought  in  yet  another  per- 
haps great  enough,  since  it  touched  upon  the  despoil- 
ing of  one  of  her  beauties. 

She  was  at  her  toilet-table  being  prepared  for  the 
night,  and  her  long  hair  brushed  and  dressed  before 
retiring. 

Mistress  Wimpole  had  come  into  the  chamber  to 
do  something  at  her  bidding,  and,  chancing  to  stand 
gazing  at  her  great  and  heavy  fall  of  locks  as  she 
was  waiting,  she  observed  a  thing  which  caused  her, 
foolish  woman  that  she  was,  to  give  a  start  and  utter 
an  unwise  exclamation. 

"Madam!"  she  gasped.     "Madam!" 

"What,  then?"  quoth  Mistress  Clorinda,  angrily. 
"You  bring  my  heart  to  my  throat!" 

"Your  hair!"  stammered  Wimpole,  losing  all  her 
small  wit.  "Your  beauteous  hair  I  A  lock  is  gone, 
madam !" 


102          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

Clorinda  started  to  her  feet  and  flung  the  great 
black  mass  over  her  white  shoulder,  that  she  might 
see  it  in  the  glass. 

"Gone !"  she  cried.  "Where?  How?  What  mean 
you?  Ah — h!" 

Her  voice  rose  to  a  sound  that  was  well-nigh  a 
scream.  She  saw  the  rifled  spot — a  place  where  a 
great  lock  had  been  severed  jaggedly — and  it  must 
have  been  five  feet  long. 

She  turned  and  sprang  upon  her  woman,  her  beau- 
tiful face  distorted  with  fury  and  her  eyes  like  flames 
of  fire.  She  seized  her  by  each  shoulder  and  boxed 
her  ears  until  her  head  spun  round  and  bells  rang 
within  it. 

"  'Twas  you !"  she  shrieked.  "  'Twas  you — she- 
devil — beast — slut  that  you  are!  'Twas  when  you 
used  your  scissors  to  the  new  head  you  made  for  me. 
You  set  it  on  my  hair  that  you  might  set  a  loop — 
and  in  your  sluttish  way  you  snipped  a  lock  by  accident 
and  hid  it  from  me." 

She  beat  her  till  her  own  black  hair  flew  about  her 
like  the  mane  of  a  Fury — and  having  used  her  hands 
till  they  were  tired,  she  took  her  brush  from  the  table 
and  beat  her  with  that  till  the  room  echoed  with  the 
blows  on  the  stout  shoulders. 

"Mistress,  'twas  not  so !"  cried  the  poor  thing,  sob- 
bing and  struggling.  "  'Twas  not  so,  madam." 

"Madam,  you  will  kill  the  woman,"  wept  Mis- 
tress Wimpole.  "I  beseech  you!  'Tis  not  seemly,  I 
beseech—" 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          103 

Mistress  Clorinda  flung  her  woman  from  her  and 
threw  the  brush  at  Mistress  Wimpole,  crying  at  her 
with  the  lordly  rage  she  had  been  wont  to  shriek  with 
when  she  wore  breeches. 

"Damnation  to  thy  seemliness,"  she  cried.  "And 
to  thee  too !  Get  thee  gone — from  me  both — get  thee 
gone  from  my  sight!" 

And  both  women  fled,  weeping  and  sobbing  and 
gasping,  from  the  room  incontinently. 

She  was  shrewish  and  sullen  with  her  woman  for 
days  after,  and  it  was  the  poor  creature's  labor  to 
keep  from  her  sight,  when  she  dressed  her  head,  the 
place  from  whence  the  lock  had  been  taken.  In  the 
servants'  hall  the  woman  vowed  that  it  was  not  she 
who  had  cut  it,  that  she  had  had  no  accident;  though 
it  was  true  she  had  used  the  scissors  about  her  head, 
yet  it  was  but  in  snipping  a  ribbon ;  she  had  not  touched 
a  hair. 

"If  she  were  another  lady,"  she  said,  "I  should 
swear  some  gallant  had  robbed  her  of  it,  but, 
forsooth,  she  does  not  allow  them  to  come  near 
enough  for  such  sport,  and  with  five  feet  of  hair 
wound  up  in  coronals,  how  could  a  man  unwind  a 
lock,  even  if  'twas  permitted  him  to  stand  at  her 
very  side?" 

Two  years  passed,  and  the  Beauty  had  no  greater 
fields  to  conquer  than  those  she  found  in  the  county, 
since  her  father,  Sir  Jeoffry,  had  not  the  money  to 
take  her  to  town,  he  becoming  more  and  more  in- 
volved and  so  fallen  into  debt  that  it  was  even  whis- 


io4         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

pered  at  times  it  went  hard  with  him  to  keep  even 
the  poor  household  he  had. 

Mistress  Clorinda's  fortunes  the  gentry  of  the  neigh- 
borhood discussed  with  growing  interest  and  curiosity. 
What  was  like  to  become  of  her  great  gifts  and  powers 
in  the  end,  if  she  could  never  show  them  to  the  great 
world  and  have  the  chance  to  carry  her  splendid  wares 
to  the  fashionable  market  where  there  were  men  of 
quality  and  wealth  who  would  be  like  to  bid  for  them. 
She  had  not  chosen  to  accept  any  of  those  who  had 
offered  themselves  so  far,  and  it  was  believed  that  for 
some  reason  she  had  held  off  my  Lord  of  Dunstan- 
wolde  in  his  suit.  'Twas  evident  that  he  admired  her 
greatly,  and  why  he  had  not  already  made  her  his 
countess  was  a  sort  of  mystery  which  was  produc- 
tive of  many  discussions  and  bore  much  talking  over. 
Some  said  that  with  all  her  beauty  and  his  admiration 
he  was  wary,  and  waited,  and  some  were  pleased  to 
say  that  the  reason  he  waited  was  because  the  young 
lady  herself  contrived  that  he  should,  it  being  her  de- 
sire to  make  an  open  conquest  of  Sir  John  Oxon  and 
show  him  to  the  world  as  her  slave,  before  she  made 
up  her  mind  to  make  even  a  much  greater  match. 
Some  hinted  that,  for  all  her  disdainfulness  and 
haughty  pride,  she  would  marry  Sir  John  if  he  asked 
her,  but  that  he,  being  as  brilliant  a  beau  as  she  a 
beauty,  was  too  fond  of  his  pleasures  and  his  gay 
town  life  to  give  them  up  even  to  a  goddess  who  had 
no  fortune.  His  own  had  not  been  a  great  one,  and 
he  had  squandered  it  magnificently,  his  extravagances 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          105 

being  renowned  in  the  world  of  fashion,  and  having 
indeed  founded  for  him  his  reputation. 

It  was,  however,  still  his  way  to  accept  frequent 
hospitalities  from  his  kinsman  Eldershawe,  and  Sir 
Jeoffry  was  always  rejoiced  enough  to  secure  him  as 
his  companion  for  a  few  days,  when  he  could  lure  him 
from  the  dissipation  of  the  town.  At  such  times  it 
never  failed  that  Mistress  Wimpole  and  poor  Anne 
kept  their  guard.  Clorinda  never  allowed  them  to 
relax  their  vigilance,  and  Mistress  Wimpole  ceased  to 
feel  afraid  and  became  accustomed  to  her  duties;  but 
Anne  never  did  so.  She  looked  always  her  palest  and 
ugliest  when  Sir  John  was  in  the  house,  and  she  would 
glance  with  sad  wonder  and  timid  adoration  from  him 
to  Clorinda;  but  sometimes,  when  she  looked  at  Sir 
John  her  plain  face  would  grow  crimson,  and  once  or 
twice  he  caught  her  at  the  folly,  and  when  she  dropped 
her  eyes,  overwhelmed  with  shame,  he  faintly  smiled 
to  himself,  seeing  in  her  a  new  though  humble  conquest. 

There  came  a  day  when  in  the  hunting-field  there 
passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  a  rumor,  and  Sir  Jeoffry 
hearing  it  came  pounding  over  on  his  big  black  horse 
to  his  daughter,  and  told  it  to  her  in  great  spirits. 

"He  is  a  sly  dog,  John  Oxon,"  he  said,  a  broad  grin 
on  his  rubicund  face.  "This  very  week  he  comes  to 
us,  and  he  and  I  are  cronies,  yet  he  has  blabbed  noth- 
ing of  what  is  being  buzzed  about  by  all  the  world." 

"He  has  learned  how  to  keep  a  closed  mouth,"  said 
Mistress  Clorinda,  without  asking  a  question. 

"But  'tis  marriage  he  is  so  mum  about,  bless  ye!" 


io6         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

said  Sir  Jeoffry.  "And  that  is  not  a  thing  to  be  hid 
long.  He  is  to  be  shortly  married,  they  say.  My 
lady,  his  mother,  has  found  him  a  great  fortune  in  a 
new  beauty  but  just  come  to  town.  She  hath  great 
estates  in  the  West  Indies  as  well  as  a  fine  fortune  in 
England — and  all  the  world  is  besieging  her ;  but  Jack 
has  come  and  bowed  his  face,  pining  before  her,  and 
writ  some  verses  and  borne  her  off  from  them  all." 

"  Tis  time,"  said  Clorinda,  "that  he  should  marry 
some  woman  who  can  pay  his  debts  and  keep  him  out 
of  the  sponging-house,  for  to  that  he  will  come  if  he 
does  not  play  his  cards  with  skill." 

Sir  Jeoffry  looked  at  her  askance  and  rubbed  his 
red  chin. 

"I  wish  thou  hadst  liked  him,  Clo,"  he  said,  "and 
ye  had  both  had  fortunes  to  match.  I  love  the  fellow 
and  ye  would  have  made  a  handsome  pair." 

Mistress  Clorinda  laughed,  sitting  straight  in  her 
saddle,  her  fine  eyes  unblenching  though  the  sun 
struck  them. 

"We  had  fortunes  to  match,"  she  said.  "I  was  a 
beggar  and  he  was  a  spendthrift.  Here  comes  Lord 
Dunstanwolde." 

And  as  the  gentleman  rode  near,  it  seemed  to  his 
dazzled  eyes  that  the  sun  so  shone  down  upon  her  be- 
cause she  was  a  goddess  and  drew  it  from  the  heavens. 

In  the  west  wing  of  the  Hall  'twas  talked  of  be- 
tween Mistress  Wimpole  and  her  charges  that  a  rumor 
of  Sir  John  Oxon's  marriage  was  afloat. 

"Yet  can  I  not  believe  it,"  said  Mistress  Margery; 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          107 

"for  if  ever  a  gentleman  was  deep  in  love,  though  he 
bitterly  strove  to  hide  it,  'twas  Sir  John,  and  with 
Mistress  Clorinda." 

"But  she,"  faltered  Anne,  looking  pale  and  even 
agitated — "she  was  always  disdainful  to  him  and  held 
him  at  arm's  length.  I — I  wished  she  would  have 
treated  him  more  kindly." 

"  Tis  not  her  way  to  treat  men  kindly,"  said  Mis- 
tress Wimpole. 

But  whether  the  rumor  was  true  or  false — and  there 
were  those  who  bestowed  no  credit  upon  it  and  said 
it  was  mere  town  talk,  and  that  the  same  thing  had 
been  bruited  abroad  before — it  so  chanced  that  Sir 
John  paid  no  visit  to  his  relative  or  to  Sir  Jeoffry  for 
several  months.  'Twas  heard  once  that  he  had  gone 
to  France,  and  at  the  French  Court  was  making  as 
great  a  figure  as  he  had  made  at  the  English  one,  but 
of  this  even  his  kinsman,  Lord  Eldershawe,  could 
speak  no  more  certainly  than  he  could  of  the  first 
matter. 

The  suit  of  my  Lord  of  Dunstanwolde — if  suit  it 
was — during  these  months  appeared  to  advance  some- 
what. All  orders  of  surmises  were  made  concerning 
it — that  Mistress  Clorinda  had  privately  quarreled 
with  Sir  John  and  sent  him  packing — that  he  had 
tired  of  his  love-making,  as  'twas  well  known  he  had 
done  many  times  before,  and  having  squandered  his 
possessions  and  finding  himself  in  open  straits,  mast 
needs  patch  up  his  fortunes  in  a  hurry  with  the  first 
heiress  whose  estate  suited  him.  But  'twas  the  women 


io8         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

who  said  these  things;  the  men  swore  no  one  could 
tire  of  or  desert  such  spirit  and  beauty,  and  that  if 
Sir  John  Oxon  stayed  away  'twas  because  he  had  been 
commanded  to  do  so,  it  never  having  been  Mistress 
Clorinda's  intention  to  do  more  than  play  with  him  a 
while,  she  having  been  witty  against  him  always  for 
a  fop,  and  meaning  herself  to  accept  no  man  as  a  hus- 
band who  could  not  give  her  both  rank  and  wealth. 

"We  know  her,"  said  the  old  boon  companions  of 
her  childhood,  as  they  talked  of  her  over  their  bottles. 
"She  knew  her  price  and  would  bargain  for  it  when 
she  was  not  eight  years  old,  and  would  give  us  songs 
and  kisses  but  when  she  was  paid  for  them  with  sweet 
things  and  knickknacks  from  the  toy  shops.  She  will 
marry  no  man  who  can  not  make  her  at  least  a  count- 
ess, a^d  she  would  take  him  but  because  there  was  not 
a  duke  at  hand.  We  know  her  and  her  beauty's 
ways." 

But  they  did  not  know  her;  none  knew  her  save 
herself. 

In  the  west  wing,  which  grew  more  bare  and  ill- 
furnished  as  things  wore  out  and  time  went  by,  Mis- 
tress Anne  waxed  thinner  and  paler.  She  was  so  thin 
in  two  months'  time  that  her  soft,  dull  eyes  looked 
twice  their  natural  size,  and  seemed  to  stare  piteously 
at  people.  One  day,  indeed,  as  she  sat  at  work  in  her 
sister's  room,  Clorinda  being  there  at  the  time,  the 
Beauty,  turning  and  beholding  her  face  suddenly, 
uttered  a  violent  exclamation. 

"Why  look  you  at  me  so?"  she  said.     "Your  eyes 


A  LADY  OF   QUALITY          109 

stand  out  of  your  head  like  a  new-hatched,  unfeath- 
ered  bird's.  They  irk  me  with  their  strange,  asking 
look.  Why  do  you  stare  at  me?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  Anne  faltered.  "I  could  not  tell 
you,  sister.  My  eyes  seem  to  stare  so  because  of  my 
thinness.  I  have  seen  them  in  my  mirror." 

"Why  do  you  grow  thin?"  quoth  Clorinda,  harshly. 
"You  are  not  ill." 

"I — I  do  not  know,"  again  Anne  faltered.  "Naught 
ails  me.  I  do  not  know.  For — forgive  me!" 

Clorinda  laughed. 

"Soft  little  fool,"  she  said,  "why  should  you  ask 
me  to  forgive  you?  I  might  as  fairly  ask  you  to 
forgive  me — that  I  keep  my  shape  and  show  no 
wasting." 

Anne  rose  from  her  chair  and  hurried  to  her  sis- 
ter's side,  sinking  upon  her  knees  there  to  kiss  her 
hand. 

"Sister,"  she  said,  "one  could  never  dream  that  you 
could  need  pardon — I  love  you  so — that  all  you  do,  it 
seems  to  me  must  be  right — whatsoever  it  might  be." 

Clorinda  drew  her  fair  hands  away  and  clasped 
them  on  the  top  of  her  head,  proudly,  as  if  she 
crowned  herself  thereby,  her  great  and  splendid  eyes 
setting  themselves  upon  her  sister's  face. 

"All  that  I  do,"  she  said  slowly,  and  with  the  stead- 
fast high  arrogance  of  an  empress  self — "all  that  I  do 
is  right — for  Me.  I  make  it  so  by  doing  it.  Do  you 
think  that  I  am  conquered  by  the  laws  that  other 
women  crouch  and  whine  before  because  they  dare  not 


i  io         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

break  them,  though  they  long  to  do  so  ?  /  am  my  own 
law — and  the  law  of  some  others." 

It  was  by  this  time  the  first  month  of  the  summer, 
and  to-night  there  was  again  a  birth-night  ball,  at 
which  the  Beauty  was  to  dazzle  all  eyes;  but  'twas 
of  greater  import  than  the  one  she  had  graced  pre- 
viously, it  being  to  celebrate  the  majority  of  the  heir 
to  an  old  name  and  estate,  who  had  been  orphaned 
early  and  was  highly  connected,  counting,  indeed, 
among  the  members  of  his  family  the  Duke  of  Os- 
monde,  who  was  one  of  the  richest  and  most  envied 
nobles  in  Great  Britain,  his  dukedom  being  of  the  old- 
est, his  numerous  estates  the  most  splendid  and  beau- 
tiful, and  the  long  history  of  his  family  full  of  heroic 
deeds.  This  nobleman  was  also  a  distant  kinsman  to 
the  Earl  of  Dunstanwolde.  At  this  ball,  for  the  first 
time  for  months,  Sir  John  Oxon  appeared  again.  He 
did  not  arrive  on  the  gay  scene  until  an  hour  some- 
what late. 

But  there  was  one  who  had  seen  him  early,  though 
no  human  soul  had  known  of  the  event. 

In  the  rambling,  ill-cared  for  grounds  of  Wildairs 
Hall,  there  was  an  old  rose-garden  which'  had  once 
been  the  pride  and  pleasure  of  some  lady  of  the  house, 
though  this  had  been  long  ago,  and  now  it  was  but  a 
lonely  wilderness  where  roses  only  grew  because  the 
dead  Lady  Wildairs  had  loved  them  in  her  loneli- 
ness, and  Barbara  and  Anne  had  tended  them,  and 
with  their  own  hands  planted  and  pruned  during  their 
childhood  and  young  maiden  days.  But  of  late  years 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          in 

even  they  had  seemed  to  have  forgotten  it,  having  be- 
come discouraged,  perchance — having  no  gardeners 
to  do  the  rougher  work,  and  the  weeds  and  brambles 
so  running  riot.  There  were  high  hedges  and  wind- 
ing paths  overgrown  and  run  wild,  the  stronger  rose- 
bushes grew  in  tangled  masses,  flinging  forth  their 
rich  blooms  among  the  weeds ;  such  as  were  more  deli- 
cate, struggling  to  live  among  them,  became  more  frail 
and  scant  blossoming  season  by  season ;  a  careless  foot 
would  have  trodden  them  beneath  it,  as  their  branches 
grew  long  and  trailed  in  the  grass,  but  for  many 
months  no  foot  had  trodden  there  at  all,  and  it  was 
a  beauteous  place  deserted. 

In  the  centre  was  an  ancient  broken  sun-dial,  which 
was  in  these  days  in  the  midst  of  a  sort  of  thicket 
where  a  bold  tangle  of  the  finest  red  roses  clambered, 
and,  defying  neglect,  flaunted  their  rich  color  in  the 
sun. 

And  though  the  place  had  been  so  long  forgotten, 
and  it  was  not  the  custom  for  it  to  be  visited,  about 
this  garlanded,  broken  sun-dial,  the  grass  was  a  little 
trodden,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  young  heir's  com- 
ing of  age,  some  one  stood  there  in  the  glowing  sun- 
light as  if  waiting. 

This  was  no  less  than  Mistress  Clorinda  herself. 
She  was  clad  in  a  morning  gown  of  white,  which 
seemed  to  make  of  her  more  than  ever  a  tall  tran- 
scendent creature,  less  a  woman  than  a  conquering 
goddess — and  she  had  piled  the  dial  with  scarlet  red 
roses,  which  she  was  choosing  to  weave  into  a  mas- 


ii2          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

sive  wreath,  or  crown,  for  some  purpose  best  known 
to  herself.  Her  head  seemed  haughtier  and  more 
splendidly  held  on  high,  even  than  was  its  common 
wont,  but  upon  these  roses  her  lustrous  eyes  were 
downcast  and  were  curiously  smiling,  as  also  was  her 
ripe  arching  lip,  whose  scarlet  the  blossoms  vied  with 
but  poorly. 

It  was  a  smile  like  this,  perhaps,  which  Mistress 
Wimpole  feared,  and  trembled  before,  for  'twas  not  a 
tender  smile,  nor  a  melting  one. 

If  she  was  waiting,  she  did  not  wait  long,  nor,  to 
be  sure,  would  she  have  long  waited  if  she  had  been 
kept  by  any  daring  laggard.  This  was  not  her  way. 
'Twas  not  a  laggard  who  came  soon,  stepping  hur- 
riedly with  light  feet  upon  the  grass,  as  though  he 
feared  the  sound  which  might  be  made  if  he  had  trod- 
den upon  the  gravel.  It  was  Sir  John  Oxon,  who 
came  toward  her  in  his  riding  costume. 

He  came  and  stood  before  her  on  the  other  side  of 
the  dial,  and  made  her  a  bow  so  low  that  a  quick  eye 
might  have  thought  'twas  almost  mocking.  His 
feather,  sweeping  the  ground,  caught  a  fallen  rose, 
which  clung  to  it.  His  beauty,  when  he  stood  up- 
right, seemed  to  defy  the  very  morning's  self,  and  all 
the  morning  world,  but  Mistress  Clorinda  did  not  lift 
her  eyes,  but  kept  them  upon  her  roses  and  went  on 
weaving. 

"Why  did  you  choose  to  come?"  she  asked. 

"Why  did  you  choose  to  keep  the  tryst  in  answer 
to  my  message?"  he  replied  to  her. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          113 

At  this  she  lifted  her  great  shining  eyes  and  fixed 
them  full  upon  him. 

"I  wished/'  she  said,  "to  see  what  you  would  say — 
more  to  see  you  than  to  hear." 

"And  I,"  he  began— "I  came—" 

She  held  up  her  white  hand  with  a  long-stemmed 
rose  in  it,  as  though  a  queen  should  lift  a  sceptre. 

"You  came,"  she  answered,  "more  to  see  me  than 
to  hear.  You  made  that  blunder." 

"You  choose  to  bear  yourself  like  a  goddess  and 
disdain  me  from  Olympian  heights,"  he  sneered.  "I 
had  the  wit  to  guess  it  would  be  so." 

She  shook  her  royal  head,  faintly  and  most  strangely 
smiling. 

"That  you  had  not,"  was  her  clear- worded  answer. 
"That  is  a  later  thought  sprung  up  since  you  have 
seen  my  face.  'Twas  quick  for  you,  but  not  quick 
enough."  And  the  smile  in  her  eyes  was  maddening. 
"You  thought  to  see  a  woman  crushed  and  weeping, 
her  beauty  bent  before  you,  her  locks  disheveled,  her 
streaming  eyes  lifted  to  Heaven — and  you — with 
prayers,  swearing  that  not  Heaven  could  help  her  so 
much  as  your  deigning  magnanimity.  You  have  seen 
women  do  this  before,  you  would  have  seen  me  do  it 
— at  your  feet — crying  out  that  I  was  lost — lost  for- 
ever. That  you  expected!  'Tis  not  here." 

Debauched  as  his  youth  was,  and  free  from  all 
touch  of  heart  or  conscience — for  from  his  earliest 
boyhood  he  had  been  the  pupil  of  rakes  and  fashion- 
able villains — well  as  he  thought  he  knew  all  women 


ii4         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

and  their  ways,  betraying  or  betrayed,  this  creature 
taught  him  a  new  thing — a  new  mood  in  woman — 
a  new  power  which  came  upon  him  like  a  thunderbolt. 

"Gods !"  he  exclaimed,  catching  his  breath  and  even 
falling  back  a  pace.  "Damnation!  you  are  not  a 
woman !" 

She  laughed  again,  weaving  her  roses,  but  not  allow- 
ing that  his  eyes  should  loose  themselves  from  hers. 

"But  now  you  called  me  a  goddess  and  spoke  of 
Olympian  heights,"  she  said;  "I  am  not  one.  I  am  a 
woman,  who  would  show  other  women  how  to  bear 
themselves  in  hours  like  these.  Because  I  am  a 
woman,  why  should  I  kneel  and  weep  and  rave? 
What  have  I  lost — in  losing  you?  I  should  have 
lost  the  same  had  I  been  twice  your  wife.  What  is 
it  women  weep  and  beat  their  breasts  for?  Because 
they  lose  a  man — because  they  lose  his  love?  They 
never  have  them." 

She  had  finished  the  wreath  and  held  it  up  in  the 
sun  to  look  at  it.  What  a  strange  beauty  was  hers,  as 
she  held  it  so — a  heavy,  sumptuous  thing — in  her  white 
hands,  her  head  thrown  backward. 

"You  marry  soon,"  she  asked,  "if  the  match  is  not 
broken?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  watching  her,  a  flame  growing 
in  his  eyes  and  in  his  soul  in  his  own  despite. 

"It  can  not  be  too  soon,"  she  said,  and  she  turned 
and  faced  him,  holding  the  wreath  high  in  her  two 
hands  poised  like  a  crown  above  her  head,  the  bril- 
liant sun  embracing  her,  her  lips  curling,  her  face  up- 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          115 

lifted  as  if  she  turned,  to  defy  the  light,  the  crimson 
of  her  cheek.  'Twas  as  if  from  foot  to  brow  the 
woman's  whole  person  was  a  flame,  rising  and  burn- 
ing triumphant,  high  above  him.  Thus  for  one  sec- 
ond's space  she  stood,  dazzling  his  very  eyesight  with 
her  strange,  dauntless  splendor.  And  then  she  set  the 
great  rose-wreath  upon  her  head,  so  crowning  it. 

"You  came  to  see  me,"  she  said,  the  spark  in  her 
eyes  growing  to  the  size  of  a  star ;  "I  bid  you  look  and 
see  how  grief  has  faded  me  these  past  months,  and 
how  I  am  bowed  down  by  it.  Look  well,  that  you 
may  remember." 

"I  look,"  he  said,  almost  panting. 

"Then,"  she  said,  her  fine-cut  nostril  pinching  itself 
with  her  breath,  as  she  pointed  down  the  path  before 
her,  "go! — back  to  your  kennel!" 

That  night  she  appeared  at  the  birth-night  ball  with 
the  wreath  of  roses  on  her  head.  No  other  ladies  wore 
such  things ;  'twas  a  fashion  of  her  own,  but  she  wore 
it  in  such  beauty  and  with  such  state  that  it  became  a 
crown  again,  even  as  if  it  had  been  the  first  moment 
that  she  had  put  it  on.  All  gazed  at  her  as  she  en- 
tered, and  a  murmur  followed  her  as  she  moved  with 
her  father  up  the  broad  oak  staircase,  which  was 
known  through  all  the  county  for  its  width  and  mas- 
sive beauty.  In  the  hall  below  guests  were  crowded, 
and  there  were  indeed  few  of  them  who  did  not  watch 
her  as  she  mounted  by  Sir  Jeoffry's  side.  In  the  upper 
hall  there  were  guests  also,  some  walking  to  and  fro, 


•i  1 6          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

some  standing  talking,  many  looking  down  at  the  arri- 
vals as  they  came  up. 

"  'Tis  Mistress  Wildairs,"  these  murmured  as  they 
saw  her.  "Clorinda,  by  God!"  said  one  of  the  older 
men  to  his  crony  who  stood  near  him.  "And  crowned 
with  roses!  The  vixen  makes  them  look  as  if  they 
were  built  of  rubies  in  every  leaf." 

At  the  top  of  the  great  staircase  there  stood  a  gen- 
tleman, who  had  indeed  paused  a  moment,  spellbound 
as  he  saw  her  coming.  He  was  a  man  of  unusual 
height  and  of  a  majestic  mien;  he  wore  a  fair  periwig, 
which  added  to  his  tallness;  his  laces  and  embroider- 
ings  were  marvels  of  art  and  richness,  and  his  breast 
blazed  with  orders.  Strangely,  she  did  not  seem  to 
see  him,  but  when  she  reached  the  landing  and  her  face 
was  turned  so  that  he  beheld  the  full  blaze  of  its 
beauty,  'twas  so  great  a  wonder  and  revelation  to  him 
that  he  gave  a  start.  The  next  moment,  almost,  one 
of  the  red  roses  of  her  crown  broke  loose  from  its 
fastenings  and  fell  at  his  very  feet.  His  countenance 
changed  so  that  it  seemed,  for  a  second,  to  lose  some 
of  its  color.  He  stooped  and  picked  the  rose  up  and 
held  it  in  his  hand.  But  Mistress  Clorinda  was 
looking  at  my  Lord  of  Dunstanwolde,  who  was 
moving  through  the  crowd  to  greet  her.  She  gave 
him  a  brilliant  smile,  and  from  her  lustrous  eyes 
surely  there  passed  something  which  lit  a  fire  of 
hope  in  his. 

After  she  had  made  her  obeisance  to  her  entertainers 
and  her  birthday  greetings  to  the  young  heir,  he  con- 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          117 

trived  to  draw  closely  to  her  side  and  speak  a  few 
words  in  a  tone  those  near  her  could  not  hear. 

"To-night,  madam,"  he  said,  with  melting  fervor, 
"you  deign  to  bring  me  my  answer  as  you  promised  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  murmured;  "take  me  where  we  may  be 
a  few  moments  alone." 

He  led  her  to  an  antechamber  where  they  were  shel- 
tered from  the  gaze  of  the  passers-by,  though  all  was 
moving  gaiety  about  them.  He  fell  upon  his  knee  and 
bowed  to  kiss  her  fair  hand.  Despite  the  sobriety  of 
his  years,  he  was  as  eager  and  tender  as  a  boy. 

"Be  gracious  to  me,  madam,"  he  implored.  "I  am 
not  young  enough  to  wait.  Too  many  months  have 
been  thrown  away." 

"You  need  wait  no  longer,  my  lord,"  she  said — "not 
one  single  hour." 

And  while  he,  poor  gentleman,  knelt  kissing  her 
hand  with  adoring  humbleness,  she,  under  the  splen- 
dor of  her  crown  of  roses,  gazed  down  at  his  gray 
head  with  her  great  steady  shining  orbs,  as  if  gazing 
at  some  almost  uncomprehended  piteous  wonder. 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  whole  assemblage  knew 
of  the  event  and  talked  of  it.  Young  men  looked 
daggers  at  Dunstanwolde  and  at  each  other,  and 
older  men  wore  glum  or  envious  faces.  Women  told 
each  other  'twas  as  they  had  known  it  would  be,  or 
'twas  a  wonder  that  at  last  it  had  come  about.  Upon 
the  arm  of  her  lord  that  was  to  be,  Mistress  Clorinda 
passed  from  room  to  room  like  a  royal  bride.  As  she 
made  her  first  turn  of  the  ballroom,  all  eyes  upon  her, 


•i  1 8          A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

her  beauty  blazing  at  its  highest,  Sir  John  Oxon  en- 
tered and  stood  at  the  door.  He  wore  his  gallant  air 
and  smiled  as  ever,  and  when  she  drew  near  him  he 
bowed  low  and  she  stopped  and  bent  lower  in  a 
courtesy  sweeping  the  ground. 

'Twas  but  in  the  next  room  her  lord  led  her  to  a 
gentleman  who  stood  with  a  sort  of  court  about  him. 
It  was  the  tall  stranger  with  the  fair  periwig  and  the 
orders  glittering  on  his  breast — the  one  who  had 
started  at  sight  of  her  as  she  had  reached  the  landing 
of  the  stairs.  He  held  still  in  his  hand  a  broken  red 
rose,  and  when  his  eye  fell  on  her  crown  the  color 
mounted  to  his  cheek. 

"My  honored  kinsman,  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Os- 
monde,"  said  her  affianced  lord.  "Your  Grace,  it  is 
this  lady  who  is  to  do  me  the  great  honor  of  becoming 
my  Lady  Dunstanwolde." 

And  as  the  deep,  tawny  brown  eye  of  the  man  bend- 
ing before  her  flashed  into  her  own,  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  Mistress  Clorinda's  lids  fell  and,  as  she 
swept  her  courtesy  of  stately  obeisance,  her  heart 
struck  like  a  hammer  against  her  side. 


CHAPTER    IX 


HIS  SOUL — MYSELF 

IN  a  month  she  was  the  Countess  of  Dunstanwolde 
and  reigned  in  her  lord's  great  town  house  with  a 
retinue  of  servants,  her  powdered  lackeys  among  the 
tallest,  her  liveries  and  equipages  the  richest  the  world 
of  fashion  knew.  She  was  presented  at  the  Court  blaz- 
ing with  the  Dunstanwolde  jewels,  and  even  with 
others  her  bridegroom  had  bought  in  his  passionate 
desire  to  heap  upon  her  the  magnificence  which  be- 
came her  so  well.  From  the  hour  she  knelt  to  kiss  the 
hand  of  royalty  she  set  the  town  on  fire.  It  seemed 
to  have  been  ordained  by  Fate  that  her  passage 
through  this  world  should  be  always  the  triumphant 
passage  of  a  conqueror.  As  when  a  baby  she  had  ruled 
the  servants'  hall,  the  kennel,  and  the  grooms'  quar- 
ters, later  her  father  and  his  boisterous  friends,  and 
from  her  fifteenth  birthday  the  whole  hunting  shire 
she  lived  in,  so  she  held  her  sway  in  the  great  world, 
as  did  no  other  lady  of  her  rank  or  any  higher.  Those 
of  her  age  seemed  but  girls  yet  by  her  side,  whether 
married  or  unmarried,  and  howsoever  trained  to  mod- 
119 


120          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

ish  ways.  She  was  but  scarce  eighteen  at  her  mar- 
riage, but  she  was  no  girl,  nor  did  she  look  one,  glow- 
ing as  was  the  early  splendor  of  her  bloom.  Her 
height  was  far  beyond  the  ordinary  for  a  woman,  but 
her  shape  so  faultless  and  her  carriage  so  regal,  that 
though  there  were  men  whom  she  was  tall  enough  to 
look  down  upon  with  ease,  the  beholder  but  felt  that 
her  tallness  was  an  added  grace  and  beauty  with 
which  all  women  should  have  been  endowed,  and 
which,  as  they  were  not,  caused  them  to  appear  but 
insignificant.  What  a  throat  her  diamonds  blazed  on, 
what  shoulders  and  bosom  her  laces  framed,  on  what 
a  brow  her  diadem  sat  and  glittered.  Her  lord  lived 
as  'twere  upon  his  knees  in  enraptured  adoration. 
Since  his  first  wife's  death  in  his  youth,  he  had  dwelt 
almost  entirely  in  the  country  at  his  house  there, 
which  was  fine  and  stately,  but  had  been  kept  gloomily 
half  closed  for  a  decade.  His  town  establishment  had 
in  truth  never  been  opened  since  his  bereavement,  and 
now — an  elderly  man — he  returned  to  the  gay  world 
he  had  almost  forgotten,  with  a  bride  whose  youth 
and  beauty  set  it  aflame.  What  wonder  that  his  head 
almost  reeled  at  times,  and  that  he  lost  his  breath  be- 
fore the  sum  of  his  strange  late  bliss,  and  the  new 
lease  of  brilliant  life  which  seemed  to  have  been  given 
to  him! 

In  the  days  when,  while  in  the  country,  he  had 
heard  such  rumors  of  the  lawless  youth  of  Sir  Jeoffry 
Wildair's  daughter,  when  he  had  heard  of  her  daunt- 
less boldness,  her  shrewish  temper,  and  her  violent 


A    LADY   OF   QUALITY          121 

passions,  he  had  been  awed  at  the  thought  of  what  a 
wife  such  a  woman  would  make  for  a  gentleman  ac- 
customed to  a  quiet  life,  and  he  had  indeed  striven 
hard  to  restrain  the  desperate  admiration  he  was 
forced  to  admit  she  had  inspired  in  him  even  at  her 
first  ball. 

The  effort  had,  in  sooth,  been  in  vain,  and  he  had 
passed  many  a  sleepless  night,  and  when,  as  time  went 
on,  he  beheld  her  again  and  again  and  saw  with  his 
own  eyes,  as  well  as  heard  from  others,  of  the  great 
change  which  seemed  to  have  taken  place  in  her  man- 
ners and  character,  he  began  devoutly  to  thank  heaven 
for  the  alteration,  as  for  a  merciful  boon  vouchsafed 
to  him.  He  had  been  wise  enough  to  know  that  even 
a  stronger  man  than  himself  could  never  conquer  or 
rule  her,  and  when  she  seemed  to  begin  to  rule  herself 
and  bear  herself  as  befitted  her  birth  and  beauty,  he 
had  dared  to  allow  himself  to  dream  of  what  per- 
chance might  be  if  he  had  great  good  fortune. 

In  these  days  of  her  union  with  him,  he  was  indeed 
almost  humbly  amazed  at  the  grace  and  kindness  she 
showed  him  every  hour  they  passed  in  each  other's 
company.  He  knew  that  there  were  men,  younger 
and  handsomer  than  himself,  who,  being  wedded  to 
beauties  far  less  triumphant  than  she,  found  that  their 
wives  had  but  little  time  to  spare  them  from  the  world 
which  knelt  at  their  feet,  and  that  in  some  fashion 
they  themselves  seemed  to  fall  into  the  background. 
But  'twas  not  so  with  this  woman,  powerful  and  wor- 
shiped though  she  might  be.  She  bore  herself  with 
6  VOL.  2 


122          A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

the  high  dignity  of  her  rank,  but  rendered  to  him  the 
gracious  respect  and  deference  due  both  to  his  position 
and  his  merit.  She  stood  by  his  side  and  not  before 
him,  and  her  smiles  and  wit  were  bestowed  upon  him 
as  generously  as  on  others.  If  she  had  once  been  a 
vixen  she  was  surely  so  no  longer,  for  he  never  heard 
a  sharp  or  harsh  word  pass  her  lips,  though  it  is  true 
her  manner  was  always  somewhat  imperial,  and  her 
lackeys  and  waiting-women  stood  in  the  greatest  awe 
of  her.  There  was  that  in  her  presence  and  in  her 
eye  before  which  all  commoner  or  weaker  creatures 
quailed.  The  men  of  the  world  who  flocked  to  pay 
their  court  to  her,  and  the  popinjays  who  followed 
them,  all  knew  this  look  and  a  tone  in  her  rich  voice 
which  could  cut  like  a  knife  when  she  chose  that  it 
should  do  so.  But  to  my  Lord  of  Dunstanwolde  she 
was  all  that  a  worshiped  lady  could  be. 

"Your  ladyship  has  made  of  me  a  happier  man  than 
I  ever  dared  to  dream  of  being,  even  when  I  was  but 
thirty,"  he  would  say  to  her,  with  reverent  devotion. 
"I  know  not  what  I  have  done  to  deserve  this  late 
summer  which  hath  been  given  me." 

"When  I  consented  to  be  your  wife,"  she  answered 
once,  "I  swore  to  myself  that  I  would  make  one  for 
you." 

And  she  crossed  the  hearth  to  where  he  sat.  She 
was  attired  in  all  her  splendor  for  a  Court  ball  and 
starred  with  jewels;  bent  over  his  chair  and  placed  a 
kiss  upon  his  grizzled  hair. 

Upon  the  night  before  her  wedding  with  him,  her 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          123 

sister,  Mistress  Anne,  had  stolen  to  her  chamber  at  a 
late  hour.  When  she  had  knocked  upon  the  door  and 
had  been  commanded  to  enter,  she  had  come  in,  and 
closing  the  door  behind  her,  had  stood  leaning  against 
it,  looking  before  her,  with  her  eyes  wide  with  agita- 
tion and  her  poor  face  almost  gray. 

All  the  tapers  for  which  places  could  be  found  had 
been  gathered  together  and  the  room  was  a  blaze  of 
light.  In  the  midst  of  it,  before  her  mirror,  Clorinda 
stood  attired  in  her  bridal  splendor  of  white  satin  and 
flowing  rich  lace — a  diamond  crescent  on  her  head, 
sparks  of  light  flaming  from  every  point  of  her  rai- 
ment. When  she  caught  sight  of  Anne's  reflection  in 
the  glass  before  her,  she  turned  and  stood  staring  at 
her  in  wonder. 

"What — nay,  what  is  this?"  she  cried.  "What  do 
you  come  for  ?  On  my  soul,  you  come  for  something 
— or  you  have  gone  mad." 

Anne  started  forward,  trembling,  her  hands  clasped 
upon  her  breast,  and  fell  at  her  feet  with  sobs. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  gasped,  "I  came — for  something — 
to  speak — to  pray  you — !  Sister — Qorinda,  have  pa- 
tience with  me — till  my  courage  comes  again !"  And 
she  clutched  her  robe. 

Something  which  came  nigh  to  being  a  shudder 
passed  through  Mistress  Clorinda's  frame;  but  it  was 
gone  in  a  second,  and  she  touched  Anne — though  not 
ungently — with  her  foot,  withdrawing  her  robe. 

"Do  not  stain  it  with  your  tears,"  she  said,  "  'twould 
be  a  bad  omen." 


124          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

Anne  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  knelt  so  be- 
fore her. 

"  Tis  not  too  late!"  she  said,  "  'tis  not  too  late  yet." 

"For  what  ?"  Clorinda  asked ;  "for  what,  I  pray  you 
tell  me  if  you  can  find  your  wits.  You  go  beyond  my 
patience  with  your  folly." 

"Too  late  to  stop,"  said  Anne — "to  draw  back  and 
repent." 

"What?"  commanded  Clorinda.  "Of  what,  then, 
should  I  repent  me?" 

"This  marriage,"  trembled  Mistress  Anne,  taking 
her  poor  hands  from  her  face  to  wring  them.  "It 
should  not  be." 

"Fool!"  quoth  Clorinda.  "Get  up  and  cease  your 
groveling.  Did  you  come  to  tell  me  it  was  not  too 
late  to  draw  back  and  refuse  to  be  the  Countess  of 
Dunstanwolde  ?"  And  she  laughed  bitterly. 

"But  it  should  not  be — it  must  not,"  Anne  panted. 
"I — I  know,  sister!  I  know — !" 

Clorinda  bent  deliberately  and  laid  her  strong,  jew- 
eled hand  on  her  shoulder  with  a  grasp  like  a  vise. 
There  was  no  hurry  in  her  movement  or  in  her  air, 
but  by  sheer,  slow  strength  she  forced  her  head  back- 
ward so  that  the  terrified  woman  was  staring  in  her 
face. 

"Look  at  me,"  she  said.  "I  would  see  you  well,  and 
be  squarely  looked  at,  that  my  eyes  may  keep  you  from 
going  mad.  You  have  pondered  over  this  marriage 
until  you  have  a  frenzy.  Women  who  live  alone  are 
sometimes  so,  and  your  brain  was  always  weak.  What 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          125 

is  it  that  you  know?  Look — in  my  eyes — and  tell 
me." 

It  seemed  as  if  her  gaze  stabbed  through  Anne's 
eyes  to  the  very  centre  of  her  brain.  Anne  tried  to 
bear  it  and  shrunk  and  withered;  she  would  have 
fallen  upon  the  floor  at  her  feet  a  helpless,  sobbing 
heap,  but  the  white  hand  would  not  let  her  go. 

"Find  your  courage — if  you  have  lost  it — and  speak 
plain  words,"  Clorinda  commanded.  Anne  tried  to 
writhe  away,  but  could  not  again,  and  burst  into  pas- 
sionate, hopeless  weeping. 

"I  can  not — I  dare  not !"  she  gasped.  "I  am  afraid. 
You  are  right,  my  brain  is  weak,  and  I — but  that — 
that  gentleman — who  so  loved  you — " 

"Which?"  said  Clorinda,  with  a  brief,  scornful 
laugh. 

"The  one  who  was  so  handsome — with  the  fair 
locks  and  the  gallant  air — " 

"The  one  you  fell  in  love  with  and  stared  at  through 
the  window,"  said  Clorinda,  with  her  brief  laugh, 
again.  "John  Oxon!  He  has  victims  enough,  for- 
sooth, to  have  spared  such  an  one  as  you  are." 

"But  he  loved  you!"  cried  Anne,  piteously;  "and 
it  must  have  been  that  you — you,  too,  sister — or — or 
else — "  She  choked  again  with  sobs,  and  Clorinda  re- 
leased her  grasp  upon  her  shoulder  and  stood  upright. 

"He  wants  none  of  me — nor  I  of  him,"  she  said, 
with  strange  sternness.  "We  have  done  with  one  an- 
other. Get  up  upon  your  feet,  if  you  would  not  have 
me  thrust  you  out  into  the  corridor." 


126         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

She  turned  from  her,  and  walking  back  to  her  dress- 
ing-table, stood  there  steadying  the  diadem  on  her 
hair,  which  had  loosed  a  fastening  when  Anne  tried 
to  writhe  away  from  her.  Anne  half  sat,  half  knelt 
upon  the  floor,  staring  at  her  with  wet,  wild  eyes  of 
misery  and  fear. 

"Leave  your  kneeling/'  commanded  her  sister  again, 
"and  come  here." 

Anne  staggered  to  her  feet  and  obeyed  her  behest. 
In  the  glass  she  could  see  the  resplendent  reflection, 
but  Clorinda  did  not  deign  to  turn  toward  her  while 
she  addressed  her,  changing  the  while  the  brilliants  in 
her  hair. 

"Hark  you,  sister  Anne,"  she  said.  "I  read  you  bet- 
ter than  you  think.  You  are  a  poor  thing,  but  you 
love  me,  and — in  my  fashion — I  think  I  love  you 
somewhat,  too.  You  think  I  should  not  marry  a  gen- 
tleman whom  you  fancy  I  do  not  love  as  I  might  a 
younger,  handsomer  man.  You  are  full  of  love,  and 
spinster  dreams  of  it  which  make  you  flighty.  I  love 
my  Lord  of  Dunstanwolde  as  well  as  any  other  man, 
and  better  than  some,  for  I  do  not  hate  him.  He  has 
a  fine  estate  and  is  a  gentleman — and  worships  me. 
Since  I  have  been  promised  to  him,  I  own  I  have  for 
a  moment  seen  another  gentleman  who  might — but 
'twas  but  for  a  moment,  and  'tis  done  with.  'Twas 
too  late  then.  If  we  had  met  two  years  agone  'twould 
not  have  been  so.  My  Lord  Dunstanwolde  gives  to 
me  wealth  and  rank  and  life  at  Court.  I  give  to  him 
the  thing  he  craves  with  all  his  soul — myself.  It  is 


A    LADY  OF   QUALITY          127 

an  honest  bargain,  and  I  shall  bear  my  part  of  it  with 
honesty.  I  have  no  virtues.  Where  should  I  have  got 
them  from,  forsooth,  in  a  life  like  mine?  I  mean  I 
have  no  women's  virtues,  but  I  have  one  that  is  some- 
times— not  always — a  man's.  'Tis  that  I  am  not  a 
coward  and  a  trickster,  and  keep  my  word  when  'tis 
given.  You  fear  that  I  shall  lead  my  lord  a  bitter 
life  of  it.  'Twill  not  be  so.  He  shall  live  smoothly 
and  not  suffer  from  me.  What  he  has  paid  for  he 
shall  honestly  have.  I  will  not  cheat  him  as  weaker 
women  do  their  husbands;  for  he  pays — poor  gentle- 
man— he  pays." 

And  then,  still  looking  at  the  glass,  she  pointed  to 
the  doorway  through  which  her  sister  had  come,  and 
in  obedience  to  her  gesture  of  command  Mistress  Anne 
stole  silently  away. 

Through  the  brilliant,  happy  year  succeeding  to  his 
marriage  my  Lord  of  Dunstanwolde  lived  like  a  man 
who  dreams  a  blissful  dream  and  knows  it  is  one. 

"I  feel,"  he  said  to  his  lady,  "as  if  'twere  too  great 
rapture  to  last,  and  yet  what  end  could  come  unless 
you  ceased  to  be  kind  to  me,  and  in  truth  I  feel  that 
you  are  too  noble  above  all  other  women  to  change, 
unless  I  were  more  unworthy  than  I  could  ever  be 
since  you  are  mine." 

Both  in  the  town  and  in  the  country,  which  last 
place  heard  many  things  of  his  condition  and  estate 
through  rumor,  he  was  the  man  most  wondered  at  and 
envied  of  his  time— envied  because  of  his  strange  hap- 


128          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

piness,  wondered  at  because  having,  when  long  past 
youth,  borne  off  this  arrogant  beauty  from  all  other 
aspirants.  She  showed  no  arrogance  to  him,  and  was 
as  perfect  a  wife  as  could  have  been  some  woman 
without  gifts  whom  he  had  lifted  from  low  estate  and 
endowed  with  rank  and  fortune.  She  seemed  both  to 
respect  himself  and  her  position  as  his  lady  and  spouse. 
Her  manner  of  reigning  in  his  household  was,  among 
his  many  delights,  the  greatest.  It  was  a  great  house, 
and  an  old  one,  built  long  before  by  Dunstanwolde, 
whose  lavish  feasts  and  riotous  banquets  had  been  the 
notable  features  of  his  life.  It  was  curiously  rambling 
in  its  structure.  The  rooms  of  entertainment  were 
large  and  splendid,  the  halls  and  staircases  stately ;  be- 
low stairs  there  was  space  for  an  army  of  servants  to 
be  disposed  of,  and  its  network  of  cellars  and  wine 
vaults  was  so  beyond  all  need  that  more  than  one 
long  arched  stone  passage  was  shut  up  as  being  with- 
out use,  and  but  letting  cold,  damp  air  into  the  cor- 
ridors leading  to  the  servants'  quarters.  It  was  in- 
deed my  Lady  Dunstanwolde  who  had  ordered  the 
closing  of  this  part,  when  it  had  been  her  pleasure  to 
be  shown  her  domain  by  her  housekeeper,  the  which 
had  greatly  awed  and  impressed  her  household,  as  sig- 
nifying that,  exalted  lady  as  she  was,  her  wit  was 
practical  as  well  as  brilliant,  and  that  her  eyes  being 
open  to  her  surroundings,  she  meant  not  that  her 
lackeys  should  rob  her  and  her  scullions  filch,  thinking 
that  she  was  so  high  that  she  was  ignorant  of  common 
things  and  blind. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          129 

"You  will  be  well  housed  and  fed  and  paid  your 
dues,"  she  said  to  them ;  "but  the  first  man  or  woman 
who  does  a  task  ill  or  dishonestly  will  be  turned  from 
his  place  that  hour.  I  deal  justice — not  mercy." 

"Such  a  mistress  they  have  never  had  before,"  said 
my  lord,  when  she  related  this  to  him.  "Nay,  they 
have  never  dreamed  of  such  a  lady — one  who  can  be 
at  once  so  severe  and  so  kind.  But  there  is  none  other 
such,  my  dearest  one.  They  will  fear  and  worship 
you." 

She  gave  him  one  of  her  sweet,  splendid  smiles.  It 
was  the  sweetness  she  at  rare  times  gave  her  splendid 
smile  which  was  her  marvelous  power. 

"I  would  not  be  too  grand  a  lady  to  be  a  good  house- 
wife," she  said.  "I  may  not  order  your  dinners,  my 
dear  lord,  or  sweep  your  corridors,  but  they  shall  know 
I  rule  your  household,  and  would  rule  it  well." 

"You  are  a  goddess!"  he  cried,  kneeling  to  her  en- 
raptured. "And  you  have  given  yourself  to  a  poor 
mortal  man,  who  can  but  worship  you." 

"You  give  me  all  I  have,"  she  said,  "and  you  love 
me  nobly,  and  I  am  grateful." 

Her  assemblies  were  the  most  brilliant  in  the  town, 
and  the  most  to  be  desired  entrance  to.  Wits  and 
beauties  planned  and  intrigued  that  they  might  be  bid- 
den to  her  house;  beaux  and  fine  ladies  fell  into  the 
spleen  if  she  neglected  them.  Her  lord's  kinsman,  the 
Duke  of  Osmonde,  who  had  been  present  when  she 
first  knelt  to  royalty,  had  scarce  removed  his  eyes 
from  her  so  long  as  he  could  gaze.  He  went  to 


1 30          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

Dunstanwolde  afterward  and  congratulated  him  with 
stately  courtesy  upon  his  great  good  fortune  and  hap- 
piness, speaking  almost  with  fire  of  her  beauty  and 
majesty,  and  thanking  his  kinsman  that  through  him 
such  perfections  had  been  given  to  their  name  and 
house.  From  that  time,  at  all  special  assemblies 
given  by  his  kinsman  he  was  present,  the  observed  of 
all  observers.  He  was  a  man  of  whom  'twas  said  that 
he  was  the  most  magnificent  gentleman  in  Europe,  that 
there  was  none  to  compare  with  him  in  the  combina- 
tion of  gifts  given  both  by  nature  and  fortune.  His 
beauty,  both  of  feature  and  carriage,  was  of  the  great- 
est, his  mind  was  of  the  highest,  and  his  education  far 
beyond  that  of  the  age  he  lived  in.  It  was  not  the 
fashion  of  the  day  that  men  of  his  rank  should  devote 
themselves  to  the  cultivation  of  their  intellects  instead 
of  to  a  life  of  pleasure ;  but  this  he  had  done  from  his 
earliest  youth,  and  now  in  his  perfect,  though  early, 
maturity  he  had  no  equal  in  polished  knowledge  and 
charm  of  bearing.  He  was  the  patron  of  literature 
and  art — men  of  genius  were  not  kept  waiting  in  his 
antechamber,  but  were  received  by  him  with  courtesy 
and  honor.  At  the  Court  'twas  well  known  there  was 
no  man  who  stood  so  near  the  throne  in  favor,  and 
that  there  was  no  union  so  exalted  that  he  might  not 
have  made  his  suit  as  rather  that  of  a  superior  than 
an  equal.  The  Queen  both  loved  and  honored  him, 
and  condescended  to  avow  as  much  with  gracious 
frankness.  She  knew  no  other  man,  she  deigned  to 
say,  who  was  so  worthy  of  honor  and  affection,  and 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          131 

that  he  had  not  married  must  be  because  there  was  no 
woman  who  could  meet  him  on  ground  that  was  equal. 
If  there  were  no  scandals  about  him — and  there  were 
none — 'twas  not  because  he  was  cold  of  heart  or  im- 
agination. No  man  or  woman  could  look  into  his 
deep  eye  and  not  know  that  when  love  came  to  him 
'twould  be  a  burning  passion,  and  an  evil  fate  if  it 
went  ill  instead  of  happily. 

"Being  past  his  callow  youtfiful  days,  'tis  time  he 
made  some  woman  a  duchess,"  Dunstanwolde  said  re- 
flectively once  to  his  wife.  '  'Twould  be  more  fitting 
that  he  should,  and  it  is  his  way  to  honor  his  house  in 
all  things,  and  bear  himself  without  fault  as  the  head 
of  it.  Methinks  it  strange  he  makes  no  move  to 
do  it." 

"No,  'tis  not  strange,"  said  my  lady,  looking  under 
her  black-fringed  lids  at  the  glow  of  the  fire,  as  though 
reflecting  also.  "There  is  no  strangeness  in  it." 

"Why  not?"  her  lord  asked. 

"There  is  no  mate  for  him,"  she  answered,  slowly. 
"A  man  like  him  must  mate  as  well  as  marry,  or  he 
will  break  his  heart  with  silent  raging  at  the  weakness 
of  the  thing  he  is  tied  to.  He  is  too  strong  and  splen- 
did for  a  common  woman.  If  he  married  one,  'twould 
be  as  if  a  lion  had  taken  to  his  care  for  mate  a  jackal 
or  a  sheep.  Ah!" — with  a  long-drawn  breath — "he 
would  go  mad — mad  with  misery."  And  her  hands, 
which  lay  upon  her  knee,  wrung  themselves  hard  to- 
gether, though  none  could  see  it. 

"He  should  have  a  goddess,  were  they  not  so  rare," 


132          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

said  Dunstanwolde,  gently  smiling.  "He  should  hold 
a  bitter  grudge  against  me,  that  I,  his  unworthy  kins- 
man, have  been  given  the  only  one." 

"Yes,  he  should  have  a  goddess,"  said  my  lady, 
slowly  again.  "And  there  are  but  women,  naught  but 
women." 

"You  have  marked  him  well,"  said  her  lord,  admir- 
ing her  wisdom.  "Methinks  that  you,  though  you 
have  spoken  to  him  but  little  and  have  but  of  late 
become  his  kinswoman,  have  marked  and  read  him 
better  than  the  rest  of  us." 

"Yes,  I  have  marked  him,"  was  her  answer.  "He 
is  a  man  to  mark,  and  I  have  a  keen  eye."  She  rose 
up  as  she  spoke  and  stood  before  the  fire,  lifted  by 
some  strong  feeling  to  her  fullest  height  and  towering 
there,  splendid  in  the  shadow — for  'twas  by  twilight 
they  talked.  "He  is  a  man,"  she  said,  "he  is  a  man! 
Nay,  he  is  as  God  meant  man  should  be.  And  if  men 
were  so,  there  would  be  women  great  enough  for  them 
to  mate  with  and  to  give  the  world  men  like  them." 
And  but  that  she  stood  in  the  shadow,  her  lord  would 
have  seen  the  crimson  torrent  rush  up  her  cheek  and 
brow  and  overspread  her  long  round  throat  itself. 

If  none  other  had  known  of  it,  there  was  one  man 
who  knew  that  she  had  marked  him,  though  she  had 
borne  herself  toward  him  always  with  her  stateliest 
graciousness.  This  man  was  his  Grace  the  Duke  him- 
self. From  the  hour  that  he  had  stood  transfixed  as 
he  watched  her  come  up  the  broad  oak  stair,  from  the 
moment  that  the  red  rose  fell  from  her  wreath  at  his 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          133 

feet  and  he  had  stooped  to  lift  it  in  his  hand,  he  had 
seen  her  as  no  other  man  had  seen  her,  and  he  had 
known  that,  had  he  not  come  but  just  too  late,  she 
would  have  been  his  own.  Each  time  he  had  beheld 
her  since  that  night,  he  had  felt  this  burn  more 
deeply  in  his  soul.  He  was  too  high  and  fine  in  all 
his  thoughts  to  say  to  himself,  that  in  her  he  saw  for 
the  first  time  the  woman  who  was  his  peer;  but  this 
was  very  truth — or  might  have  been,  if  fate  had  set 
her  youth  elsewhere,  and  a  lady  who  was  noble  and 
her  own  mother  had  trained  and  guarded  her.  When 
he  saw  her  at  the  Court  surrounded,  as  she  ever  was, 
by  a  court  of  her  own;  when  he  saw  her  reigning  in 
her  lord's  house,  receiving  and  doing  gracious  honor 
to  his  guests  and  hers;  when  she  passed  him  in  her 
coach,  drawing  every  eye  by  the  majesty  of  her  pres- 
ence, as  she  drove  through  the  town,  he  felt  a  deep 
pang  which  was  all  the  greater  that  his  honor  bade 
him  conquer  it.  He  had  no  ignoble  thought  of  her, 
he  would  have  scorned  to  sully  his  soul  with  any  light 
passion.  To  him  she  was  the  woman  who  might  have 
been  his  beloved  wife  and  duchess,  who  would  have 
upheld  with  him  the  honor  and  traditions  of  his  house, 
whose  strength  and  power  and  beauty  would  have  been 
handed  down  to  his  children,  who  so  would  have  been 
born  endowed  with  gifts  befitting  the  state  to  which 
Heaven  had  called  them.  It  was  of  this  he  thought 
when  he  saw  her,  and  of  naught  less  like  to  do  her 
honor.  And  as  he  had  marked  her,  so  he  saw  in  her 
eyes,  despite  her  dignity  and  grace,  she  had  marked 


i34          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

him.  He  did  not  know  how  closely,  or  that  she  gave 
him  the  attention  he  could  not  restrain  himself  from 
bestowing  upon  her.  But  when  he  bowed  before  her 
and  she  greeted  him  with  all  courtesy,  he  saw  in  her 
great,  splendid  eye  that  had  fate  willed  it  so,  she 
would  have  understood  all  his  thoughts,  shared  all  his 
ambitions,  and  aided  him  to  uphold  his  high  ideals. 
Nay,  he  knew  she  understood  him  even  now,  and  was 
stirred  by  what  stirred  him  also,  even  though  they  met 
but  rarely,  and  when  they  encountered  each  other, 
spoke  but  as  kinsman  and  kinswoman,  who  would 
show  each  other  all  gracious  respect  and  honor.  It 
was  because  of  this  pang,  which  struck  his  great  heart 
at  times,  that  he  was  not  a  frequent  visitor  at  my  Lord 
Dunstanwolde's  mansion,  but  appeared  there  only  at 
such  assemblies  as  were  matters  of  ceremony,  his  ab- 
sence from  which  would  have  been  a  noted  thing.  His 
kinsman  was  fond  of  him,  and  though  himself  of  so 
much  riper  age,  honored  him  greatly.  At  times  he 
strove  to  lure  him  into  visits  of  greater  familiarity, 
but  though  his  kindness  was  never  met  coldly  or  re- 
pulsed, a  further  intimacy  was  in  some  gracious  way 
avoided. 

"My  Lady  must  beguile  you  to  be  less  formal  with 
us,"  said  Dunstanwolde.  And  later  her  ladyship  spoke 
as  her  husband  had  privately  desired:  "My  Lord 
would  be  made  greatly  happy  if  your  Grace  would 
honor  our  house  oftener,"  she  said  one  night,  when 
at  the  end  of  a  great  ball  he  was  bidding  her  adieu. 

Osmonde's  deep  eye  met  hers  gently  and  held  it. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          135 

"My  Lord  Dunstanwolde  is  always  gracious  and 
warm  of  heart  to  his  kinsman,"  he  replied.  "Do  not 
let  him  think  me  discourteous  or  ungrateful.  In  truth, 
your  ladyship,  I  am  neither  the  one  nor  the  other." 

The  eyes  of  each  gazed  into  the  other's  steadfastly 
and  gravely.  The  Duke  of  Osmonde  thought  of  Juno's 
as  he  looked  at  hers.  They  were  such  liquid  velvet, 
and  held  such  fathomless  deeps. 

"Your  Grace  is  not  so  free  as  lesser  men,"  Clo- 
rinda  said ;  "you  can  not  come  and  go  as  you  would." 

"No,"  he  answered,  gravely,  "I  can  not  as  I  would." 

And  this  was  all. 


CHAPTER    X 

"YES — I  HAVE  MARKED  HIM" 

IT  having  been  known  by  all  the  world  that,  despite 
her  beauty  and  her  conquests,  Mistress  Clorinda  Wil- 
dairs  had  not  smiled  with  great  favor  upon  Sir  John 
Oxon  in  the  country,  it  was  not  wondered  at  or  made 
any  matter  of  gossip  that  the  Countess  of  Dunstan- 
wolde  was  but  little  familiar  with  him,  and  saw  him 
but  rarely  at  her  house  in  town.  Once  or  twice  he 
had  appeared  there,  it  is  true,  at  my  Lord  Dunstan- 
wolde's  instance,  but  my  lady  herself  scarce  seemed 
to  see  him  after  her  first  courtesies  as  hostess  were 
over. 

"You  never  smiled  on  him,  my  love,"  Dunstanwolde 
said  to  his  wife.  "You  bore  yourself  toward  him  but 
cavalierly,  as  was  your  ladyship's  way — with  all  but 
one  poor  servant,"  tenderly;  "but  he  was  one  of  the 
many  who  followed  in  your  train,  and  if  these  gay 
young  fellows  stay  away  'twill  be  said  that  I  keep 
them  at  a  distance  because  I  am  afraid  of  their  youth 
and  gallantry.  I  would  not  have  it  fancied  that  I  was 
so  ungrateful  as  to  presume  upon  your  goodness  and 
not  leave  to  you  your  freedom." 
136 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          137 

"Nor  would  I,  my  lord,"  she  answered.  "But  he 
will  not  come  often.  I  do  not  love  him  well  enough." 

His  marriage  with  the  heiress  who  had  wealth  in 
the  West  Indies  was  broken  off,  or  rather  'twas  said 
to  have  come  to  naught.  All  the  town  knew  it,  and 
wondered  and  talked,  because  it  had  been  believed  at 
first  that  the  young  lady  was  much  enamored  of  him 
and  that  he  would  soon  lead  her  to  the  altar,  the  which 
his  creditors  had  greatly  rejoiced  over  as  promising 
them  some  hope  that  her  fortune  would  pay  their  bills, 
of  which  they  had  been  in  despair.  Later,  however, 
gossip  said  that  the  heiress  had  not  been  so  tender  as 
was  thought,  that  indeed  she  had  been  found  to  be  in 
love  with  another  man,  and  that  even  had  she  not,  she 
had  heard  such  stories  of  Sir  John  as  promised  but 
little  nuptial  happiness  for  any  woman  that  took  him 
to  husband. 

When  my  Lord  Dunstanwolde  brought  the  great 
beauty,  his  bride,  to  town,  and  she  soared  at  once  to 
splendid  triumph  and  renown,  inflaming  every  heart 
and  setting  every  tongue  at  work  clamoring  her 
praises,  Sir  John  Oxon  saw  her  from  afar  in  all  the 
scenes  of  brilliant  fashion  she  frequented  and  reigned 
queen  of.  'Twas  from  afar  it  might  be  said  he  saw 
her  only,  though  he  was  often  near  her,  because  she 
bore  herself  as  if  she  did  not  observe  him,  or  as 
though  he  were  a  thing  which  did  not  exist.  The 
first  time  that  she  deigned  to  address  him  was  upon 
an  occasion  when  she  found  herself  standing  so  near 
him  at  an  assembly  that  in  the  crowd  she  brushed  him 


138          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

with  her  robe.  His  blue  eyes  were  fixed  burningly 
upon  her,  and  as  she  brushed  him  he  drew  in  a  hard 
breath,  which  she  hearing,  turned  slowly  and  let  her 
own  eyes  fall  upon  his  face. 

"You  did  not  marry?"  she  said. 

"No,  I  did  not  marry,"  he  answered,  in  a  low,  bitter 
voice.  "  'Twas  your  Ladyship  who  did  that." 

She  faintly,  slowly  smiled. 

"I  should  not  have  been  like  to  do  otherwise,"  she 
said.  "  Tis  an  honorable  condition.  I  would  advise 
you  to  enter  it." 

When  the  Earl  and  his  Countess  went  to  their 
house  in  the  country,  there  fell  to  Mistress  Anne  a 
great  and  curious  piece  of  good  fortune.  In  her 
wildest  dreams  she  had  never  dared  to  hope  that  such 
a  thing  might  be. 

My  Lady  Dunstanwolde,  on  her  first  visit  home, 
bore  her  sister  back  with  her  to  the  manor  and  there 
established  her.  She  gave  her  a  suite  of  rooms  and 
a  waiting-woman  of  her  own,  and  even  provided  her 
with  a  suitable  wardrobe.  This  last  she  had  chosen 
herself,  with  a  taste  and  fitness  which  only  such  wit 
as  her  own  could  have  devised. 

"They  are  not  great  rooms  I  give  thee,  Anne,"  she 
said,  "but  quiet  and  small  ones,  which  you  can  make 
homelike  in  such  ways  as  I  know  your  taste  lies. 
My  Lord  has  aided  me  to  choose  romances  for  your 
shelves,  he  knowing  more  of  books  than  I  do.  And 
I  shall  not  dress  thee  out  like  a  peacock,  with  gay 
colors  and  great  farthingales.  They  would  frighten 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          139 

thee,  poor  woman,  and  be  a  burden  with  their  weight. 
I  have  chosen  such  things  as  are  not  too  splendid,  but 
will  suit  thy  pale  face  and  shot-partridge  eyes." 

Anne  stood  in  the  middle  of  her  room  and  looked 
about  at  its  comforts,  wondering. 

"Sister,"  she  said,  "why  are  you  so  good  to  me? 
What  have  I  done  to  serve  you?  Why  is  it  Anne 
instead  of  Barbara  you  are  so  gracious  to?" 

"Perchance  because  I  am  a  vain  woman  and  would 
be  worshiped  as  you  worship  me." 

"But  you  are  always  worshiped,"  Anne  faltered. 

"Aye,  by  men!"  said  Clorinda,  mocking;  "but  not 
by  women.  And  it  may  be  that  my  pride  is  so  high 
that  I  must  be  worshiped  by  a  woman  too.  You  would 
always  love  me,  Sister  Anne.  If  you  saw  me  break 
the  law — if  you  saw  me  stab  the  man  I  hated  to  the 
heart,  you  would  think  it  must  be  pardoned  to  me." 

She  laughed,  and  yet  her  voice  was  such  that  Anne 
lost  her  breath  and  caught  at  it  again. 

"Aye,  I  should  love  you,  sister!"  she  cried.  "Even 
then  I  could  not  but  love  you.  I  should  know  you 
could  not  strike  so  an  innocent  creature,  and  that  to 
be  so  hated  he  must  have  been  worthy  of  hate.  You 
are  not  like  other  women,  Sister  Clorinda,  but  you 
could  not  be  base,  for  you  have  a  great  heart." 

Clorinda  put  her  hand  to  her  side  and  laughed 
again,  but  with  less  mocking  in  her  laughter. 

"What  do  you  know  of  my  heart,  Anne?"  she  said. 
"Till  late  I  did  not  know  it  beat,  myself.  My  Lord 
says  'tis  a  great  one  and  noble,  but  I  know  'tis  his 


I4o          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

own  that  is  so !  Have  I  done  honestly  by  him,  Anne, 
as  I  told  you  I  would?  Have  I  been  fair  in  my  bar- 
.gain — as  fair  as  an  honest  man  and  not  a  puling,  slip- 
pery woman?" 

"You  have  been  a  great  lady,"  Anne  answered,  her 
great  dull,  soft  eyes  filling  with  slow  tears  as  she 
gazed  at  her.  "He  says  that  you  have  given  to  him 
a  year  of  Heaven,  and  that  you  seem  to  him  like  some 
archangel — for  the  lower  angels  seem  not  high  enough 
to  sit  beside  you." 

"  Tis  as  I  said,  'tis  his  heart  that  is  noble,"  said 
Clorinda.  "But  I  vowed  it  should  be  so.  He  paid — 
he  paid!" 

The  country  saw  her  lord's  happiness  as  the  town 
had  done,  and  wondered  at  it  no  less.  The  manor 
was  thrown  open  and  guests  came  down  from  town, 
great  dinners  and  balls  being  given  at  which  all  the 
county  saw  the  mistress  reign  at  her  consort's  side 
with  such  a  grace  as  no  lady  ever  had  worn  before. 
Sir  Jeoffry,  appearing  at  these  assemblies,  was  so 
amazed  that  he  forgot  to  muddle  himself  with  drink 
in  gazing  at  his  daughter  and  following  her  in  all  her 
movements. 

"Look  at  her!"  he  said  to  his  old  boon  companions 
and  hers,  who  were  as  much  awed  as  he.  "Lord! 
who  would  think  she  was  the  strapping,  handsome 
shrew  that  swore  and  sang  men's  songs  to  us,  and  rode 
to  the  hunt  in  breeches?" 

He  was  awed  at  the  thought  of  paying  fatherly  visits 
to  her  house,  and  would  have  kept  away  but  that  she 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          141 

was  kind  to  him  in  the  way  he  was  best  able  to  under- 
stand. 

"I  am  country  bred,  and  have  not  the  manners  of 
your  town  men,  my  Lady,"  he  said  to  her,  as  he  sat 
with  her  alone  on  one  of  the  first  mornings  he  spent 
with  her  in  her  private  apartment.  "I  am  used  to 
rap  out  an  oath  or  an  ill-mannered  word  when  it 
comes  to  me.  Dunstanwolde  has  weaned  you  of  hear- 
ing such  things — and  I  am  too  old  a  dog  to  change." 

"Wouldst  have  thought  I  was  too  old  to  change," 
answered  she,  "but  I  was  not.  Did  I  not  tell  thee 
I  would  be  a  great  lady?  There  is  naught  a  man  or 
woman  can  not  learn  who  hath  the  wit." 

"Thou  hadst  it,  Clo,"  said  Jeoffry,  gazing  at  her 
with  a  sort  of  slow  wonder.  "Thou  hadst  it.  If  thou 
hadst  not — !"  He  paused  and  shook  his  head,  and 
there  was  a  rough  emotion  in  his  coarse  face.  "I  was 
not  the  man  to  have  made  aught  but  a  baggage  of 
thee,  Clo.  I  taught  thee  naught  decent,  and  thou 
never  heard  or  saw  aught  to  teach  thee.  Damn  me !" 
almost  with  moisture  in  his  eyes,  "if  I  know  what  kept 
thee  from  going  to  ruin  before  thou  wert  fifteen." 

She  sat  and  watched  him  steadily. 

"Nor  I,"  quoth  she  in  answer.  "Nor  I — but  here 
thou  seest  me,  Dad — an  earl's  lady,  sitting  before 
thee." 

"  'Twas  thy  wit,"  said  he,  still  moved  and  fairly 
maudlin.  "  'Twas  thy  wit  and  thy  devil's  will." 

"Aye,"  she  answered,  "  'twas  they — my  wit  and  my 
devil's  will!" 


142          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

She  rode  to  the  hunt  with  him  as  she  had  been  wont 
to  do,  but  she  wore  the  latest  fashion  in  hunting  hat 
and  coat,  and  though  'twould  not  have  been  possible 
for  her  to  sit  her  horse  better  than  of  old,  or  to  take 
hedges  and  ditches  with  greater  daring  and  spirit,  yet 
in  some  way  every  man  who  rode  with  her  felt  that 
'twas  a  great  lady  who  led  the  field.  The  horse  she 
rode  was  a  fierce,  beauteous  devil  of  a  beast  which  Sir 
Jeoffry  himself  would  scarce  have  mounted,  even  in 
his  younger  days,  but  she  carried  her  loaded  whip  and 
she  sat  upon  the  brute  as  if  she  scarcely  felt  its  temper, 
and  held  it  with  a  wrist  of  steel. 

My  Lord  Dunstanwolde  did  not  hunt  this  season. 
He  had  never  been  greatly  fond  of  the  sport,  and  at 
this  time  was  a  little  ailing,  but  he  would  not  let  his 
lady  give  up  her  pleasure  because  he  could  not  join  it. 

"Nay,"  he  said,  "  'tis  not  for  the  queen  of  the  hunt- 
ing-field to  stay  at  home  to  nurse  an  old  man's  aches. 
My  pride  would  not  let  it  be  so.  Your  father  will 
attend  you.  Go — and  lead  them  all,  my  dear." 

In  the  field  appeared  Sir  John  Oxon,  who  for  a  brief 
visit  was  at  Eldershawe.  He  rode  close  to  my  lady, 
though  she  had  naught  to  say  to  him  after  her  first 
greetings  of  civility.  He  looked  not  as  fresh  and 
glowing  with  youth  as  had  been  his  wont  only  a  year 
ago.  His  reckless  wildness  of  life  and  his  town  de- 
baucheries had  at  last  touched  his  bloom,  perhaps.  He 
had  a  haggard  look  at  moments  when  his  countenance 
was  not  lighted  by  excitement.  'Twas  whispered  that 
he  was  deep  enough  in  debt  to  be  greatly  straitened, 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          143 

and  that  his  marriage  having  come  to  naught  his  cred- 
itors  were  besetting  him  without  mercy.  This,  and 
more  than  this,  no  one  knew  so  well  as  my  Lady  Dun- 
stanwolde,  but  of  a  certainty  she  had  little  pity  for 
his  evil  case  if  one  might  judge  by  her  face,  when  in 
the  course  of  the  running  he  took  a  hedge  behind 
her,  and,  pressing  his  horse,  came  up  by  her  side 
and  spoke. 

"Clorinda,"  he  began,  breathlessly,  through  set 
teeth. 

She  could  have  left  him  and  not  answered,  but  she 
chose  to  restrain  the  pace  of  her  wild  beast  for  a 
moment  and  look  at  him. 

"Your  Ladyship !"  she  corrected  his  audacity.  "Or 
— my  Lady  Dunstanwolde." 

"There  was  a  time — "  he  said. 

"This  morning,"  she  said,  "I  found  a  letter  in  a 
casket  in  my  closet.  I  do  not  know  the  mad  villain 
who  wrote  it.  I  never  knew  him." 

"You  did  not!"  he  cried  with  an  oath,  and  then 
laughed  scornfully. 

"The  letter  lies  in  ashes  on  the  hearth,"  she  said. 
"  'Twas  burned  unopened.  Do  not  ride  so  close,  Sir 
John,  and  do  not  play  the  madman  and  the  beast  with 
the  wife  of  my  Lord  Dunstanwolde." 

"The  wife!"  he  answered.  "'My  Lord!'  'Tis  a 
new  game  this,  and  well  played,  by  God !" 

She  did  not  so  much  as  waver  in  her  look,  and  her 
wide  eyes  smiled. 

"Quite  new,"  she  answered  him — "quite  new.    And 


144          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

could  I  not  have  played  it  well  and  fairly,  I  would 
not  have  touched  the  cards.  Keep  your  horse  off,  Sir 
John.  Mine  is  restive  and  likes  not  another  beast  near 
him."  And  she  touched  the  creature  with  her  whip, 
and  he  was  gone  like  a  thunderbolt 

The  next  day,  being  in  her  room,  Anne  saw  her 
come  from  her  dressing-table  with  a  sealed  letter  in 
her  hand.  She  went  to  the  bell  and  rang  it. 

"Anne,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  rate  my  woman 
and  turn  her  from  my  service.  I  shall  not  beat  or 
swear  at  her  as  I  was  wont  to  do  with  my  women  in 
time  past.  You  will  be  afraid,  perhaps,  but  you  must 
stay  with  me." 

She  was  standing  by  the  fire  with  the  letter  held 
almost  at  arm's  length  in  her  finger-tips  when  the 
woman  entered,  who,  seeing  her  face,  turned  pale, 
and  casting  her  eyes  upon  the  letter,  paler  still,  and 
began  to  shake. 

"You  have  attended  mistresses  of  other  ways  than 
mine,"  her  lady  said  in  her  low,  clear  voice,  which 
seemed  to  cut  as  knives  do.  "Some  fool  and  mad- 
man has  bribed  you  to  serve  him.  You  can  not  serve 
me  also.  Come  hither  and  put  this  in  the  fire.  If 
'twere  to  be  done,  I  would  make  you  hold  it  in  the  live 
coals  with  your  hand." 

The  woman  came  shuddering,  looking  as  if  she 
thought  she  might  be  struck  dead.  She  took  the  let- 
ter and  kneeled,  ashen  pale,  to  burn  it.  When  'twas 
done,  her  mistress  pointed  to  the  door. 

"Go  and  gather  your  goods  and  chattels  together 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          145 

and  leave  within  this  hour,"  she  said.  "I  will  be  my 
own  tire-woman  till  I  can  find  one  who  comes  to  me 
honest." 

When  she  was  gone  Anne  sat  gazing  at  the  ashes 
on  the  hearth. 

She  was  pale  also. 

"Sister,"  she  said,  "do  you—?" 

"Yes,"  answered  my  lady.  "  "Pis  a  man  who  loved 
me,  a  cur  and  a  knave.  He  thought  for  an  hour  he 
was  cured  of  his  passion.  I  could  have  told  him 
'twould  spring  up  and  burn  more  fierce  than  ever 
when  he  saw  another  man  possess  me.  'Tis  so  with 
knaves  and  curs.  And  'tis  so  with  him.  He  hath 
gone  mad  again." 

"Aye,  mad!"  cried  Anne,  "mad  and  base  and 
wicked !" 

Clorinda  gazed  at  the  ashes,  her  lips  curling.  "He 
was  ever  base,"  she  said.  "As  he  was  at  first,  so  he 
is  now.  'Tis  thy  favorite,  Anne,"  lightly,  and  she 
delicately  spurned  the  blackened  tinder  with  her  foot 
— "thy  favorite,  John  Oxon." 

Mistress  Anne  crouched  in  her  seat  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  thin  hands. 

"Oh,  my  Lady!"  she  cried,  not  feeling  that  she 
could  say  "sister."  "If  he  be  base,  and  ever  was 
so — pity  him,  pity  him!  The  base  need  pity  more 
than  all." 

For  she  had  loved  him  madly,  all  unknowing  her 
own  passion,  not  presuming  even  to  look  up  in  his 
beautiful  face,  thinking  of  him  only  as  the  slave  of 
7  VOL.  2 


146          A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

her  sister,  and  in  dead  secrecy  knowing  strange  things 
— strange  things !  And  when  she  had  seen  the  letters 
she  had  known  the  handwriting,  and  the  beating  of 
her  simple  heart  had  well-nigh  strangled  her — for  she 
had  seen  words  writ  by  him  before. 


CHAPTER   XI 

WHEREIN  A  NOBLE  LIFE  COMES  TO  AN  END 

WHEN  Dunstanwolde  and  his  lady  went  back  to 
their  house  in  town,  Mistress  Anne  went  with  them. 
Clorinda  willed  that  it  should  be  so.  She  made  her 
there  as  peaceful  and  retired  a  nest  of  her  own  as  she 
had  given  to  her  at  Dunstanwolde.  By  strange  good 
fortune,  Barbara  had  been  wedded  to  a  plain  gentle- 
man, who,  being  a  widower  with  children,  needed  a 
helpmeet  in  his  modest  household,  and  through  a  dis- 
tant relationship  to  Mistress  Wimpble  encountered  her 
charge,  and  saw  in  her  meekness  of  spirit  the  thing 
which  might  fall  into  the  supplying  of  his  needs.  A 
beauty  or  a  fine  lady  would  not  have  suited  him;  he 
wanted  but  a  housewife  and  a  mother  for  his  orphaned 
children,  and  this  a  young  woman  who  had  lived 
straitly  and  been  forced  to  many  contrivances  for 
mere  decency  of  apparel  and  ordinary  comfort  might 
be  trained  to  become. 

So  it  fell  that  Mistress  Anne  could  go  to  London 
without  pangs  of  conscience  at  leaving  her  sister  in 
the  country  and  alone.  The  stateliness  of  the  town 
mansion,  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde's  retinue  of  lackeys 

147 


148          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

and  serving-women,  her  little  black  page  who  waited 
on  her  and  took  her  pug  dogs  to  walk,  her  wardrobe 
and  jewels  and  equipages,  were  each  and  all  mar- 
vels to  her,  but  seemed  to  her  mind  so  far  befit- 
ting that  she  remembered,  wondering,  the  days  when 
she  had  darned  the  tattered  tapestry  in  her  chamber 
and  changed  the  ribbands  and  fashions  of  her  gowns. 
Being  now  attired  fittingly  though  soberly  as  became 
her,  she  was  not  in  these  days — at  least  as  far  as 
outward  seeming  went — an  awkward  blot  upon  the 
scene  when  she  appeared  among  her  sister's  company, 
but  at  heart  she  was  as  timid  and  shrinking  as  ever, 
and  never  mingled  with  the  guests  in  the  great  rooms, 
when  she  could  avoid  so  doing.  Once  or  twice  she 
went  forth  with  Clorinda  in  her  coach  and  six  and 
saw  the  glittering  world,  while  she  drew  back  into 
her  corner  of  the  equipage  and  gazed  with  all  a  coun- 
try-bred woman's  timorous  admiration. 

"  'Twas  grand  and  like  a  beautiful  show !"  she  said, 
when  she  came  home  the  first  time.  "But  do  not  take 
me  often,  sister,  I  am  too  plain  and  shy,  and  feel  that 
I  am  naught  in  it." 

But,  though  she  kept  as  much  apart  from  the  great 
world  of  fashion  as  she  could,  she  contrived  to  know 
of  all  her  sister's  triumphs,  to  see  her  when  she  went 
forth  in  her  bravery,  though  'twere  but  to  drive  in 
the  Mall,  to  be  in  her  closet  with  her  on  great  nights 
when  her  tire-women  were  decking  her  in  brocades 
and  jewels,  that  she  might  show  her  highest  beauty 
at  some  assembly  or  ball  of  state.  And  at  all  these 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          149 

times,  as  also  at  all  others,  she  •  knew  that  she  but 
shared  her  own  love  and  dazzled  admiration  with  my 
Lord  Dunstanwolde,  whose  tenderness,  being  so  fed 
by  his  lady's  unfailing  graciousness  of  bearing  and 
kindly  looks  and  words,  grew  with  every  hour  that 
passed. 

They  held  one  night  a  splendid  assembly,  at  which 
a  member  of  the  royal  house  was  present.  That  night 
Clorinda  bade  her  sister  appear. 

"Sometimes — I  do  not  command  it  always — but 
sometimes  you  must  show  yourself  to  our  guests.  My 
Lord  will  not  be  pleased  else.  He  says  it  is  not  fit- 
ting that  his  wife's  sister  should  remain  unseen  as 
if  we  hid  her  away  through  ungraciousness.  Your 
woman  will  prepare  for  you  all  things  needful.  I 
myself  will  see  that  your  dress  becomes  you.  I  have 
commanded  it  already,  and  given  much  thought  to 
its  shape  and  color.  I  would  have  you  very  comely, 
Anne.''  And  she  kissed  her  lightly  on  her  cheek,  al- 
most as  gently  as  she  sometimes  kissed  her  lord's  gray 
hair.  In  truth,  though  she  was  still  a  proud  lady  and 
stately  in  her  ways,  there  had  come  upon  her  some 
strange  subtle  change  Anne  could  not  understand. 

On  the  day  on  which  the  assembly  was  held,  Mis- 
tress Anne's  woman  brought  to  her  a  beautiful  robe. 
'Twas  flowered  satin  of  the  sheen  and  softness  of 
a  dove's  breast,  and  the  lace  adorning  it  was  like  a 
spider's  web  for  gossamer  fineness;  the  robe  was 
sweetly  fashioned,  fitting  her  shape  wondrously,  and 
when  she  was  attired  in  it  at  night  a  little  color  came 


150          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

into  her  cheeks  to  see  herself  so  far  beyond  all  come- 
liness she  had  ever  known  before.  When  she  found 
herself  in  the  midst  of  the  dazzling  scene  in  the  rooms 
of  entertainment,  she  was  glad  when  at  last  she  could 
feel  herself  lost  among  the  crowd  of  guests.  Her  only 
pleasure  in  such  scenes  was  to  withdraw  to  some  hid- 
den corner  and  look  on,  as  at  a  pageant  or  a  play. 

To-night  she  placed  herself  in  the  shadow  of  a 
screen,  from  which  retreat  she  could  see  Clorinda 
and  Dunstanwolde  as  they  received  their  guests.  Thus 
she  found  enjoyment  enough,  for,  in  truth,  her  love 
and  almost  abject  passion  of  adoration  for  her  sister 
had  grown,  as  his  Lordship's  had,  with  every  hour. 
For  a  season  there  had  rested  upon  her  a  black  shadow, 
beneath  which  she  wept  and  trembled,  bewildered  and 
lost,  though  even  at  its  darkest  the  object  of  her  hum- 
ble love  had  been  a  star  whose  brightness  was  not 
dimmed,  because  it  could  not  be  so  whatsoever  passed 
before  it.  This  cloud,  however,  being,  it  seemed,  dis- 
pelled, the  star  had  shone  but  more  brilliant  in  its  high 
place  and  she  the  more  passionately  worshiped  it.  To 
sit  apart  and  see  her  idol's  radiance,  to  mark  her  as 
she  reigned  and  seemed  the  more  royal  when  she  bent 
the  knee  to  royalty  itself,  to  see  the  shimmer  of  her 
jewels  crowning  her  midnight  hair  and  clasping  the 
warm  whiteness  of  her  noble  neck,  to  observe  the  ad- 
miration in  all  eyes  as  they  dwelt  upon  her,  this  was, 
indeed,  enough  of  happiness. 

"She  is  as  ever,"  she  murmured,  "not  so  much  a 
woman  as  a  proud,  lovely  goddess  who  has  deigned 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          151 

to  descend  to  earth.  But  my  Lord  does  not  look  like 
himself.  He  seems  shrunk  in  the  face  and  old,  and 
his  eyes  have  rings  about  them.  I  like  not  that.  He 
is  so  kind  a  gentleman  and  so  happy  that  his  body 
should  not  fail  him.  I  have  marked  that  he  has  looked 
colorless  for  days,  and  Clorinda  questioned  him  kindly 
on  it,  but  he  said  he  suffered  naught." 

'Twas  but  a  little  later  than  she  had  thought  this, 
that  she  remarked  a  gentleman  step  aside  and  stand 
quite  near  without  observing  her.  Feeling  that  she 
had  no  testimony  to  her  fancifulness,  she  found  her- 
self thinking,  in  a  vague  fashion,  that  he,  too,  had 
come  there  because  he  chose  to  be  unobserved.  Twould 
not  have  been  so  easy  for  him  to  retire  as  it  had  been 
for  her  smallness  and  insignificance  to  do  so,  and,  in- 
deed, she  did  not  fancy  that  he  meant  to  conceal  him- 
self, but  merely  to  stand  for  a  quiet  moment  a  little 
apart  from  the  crowd. 

N  And  as  she  looked  up  at  him,  wondering  why  this 
should  be,  she  saw  he  was  the  noblest  and  most  stately 
gentleman  she  had  ever  beheld. 

She  had  never  seen  him  before;  he  must  either  be 
a  stranger  or  a  rare  visitor.  As  Clorinda  was  beyond 
a  woman's  height,  he  was  beyond  a  man's.  He  carried 
himself  as  kingly  as  she  did  nobly;  he  had  a  counte- 
nance of  strong  manly  beauty,  and  a  deep  tawny  eye, 
thick-fringed  and  full  of  fire;  orders  glittered  upon 
his  breast,  and  he  wore  a  fair  periwig  which  became 
him  wondrously  and  seemed  to  make  his  eye  more  deep 
and  burning  by  its  contrast. 


1 52          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

Beside  his  strength  and  majesty  of  bearing,  the 
stripling  beauty  of  John  Oxon  would  have  seemed 
slight  and  paltry,  a  thing  for  flippant  women  to  trifle 
with. 

Mistress  Anne  looked  at  him  with  an  admiration 
somewhat  like  reverence,  and  as  she  did  so  a  sudden 
thought  rose  in  her  mind,  and  even  as  it  rose  she 
marked  what  his  gaze  rested  on,  and  how  it  dwelt 
upon  it,  and  knew  that  he  had  stepped  apart  to  stand 
and  gaze  as  she  did — only  with  a  man's  hid  fervor — 
at  her  sister's  self! 

'Twas  as  if  suddenly  a  strange  secret  had  been  told 
her.  She  read  it  in  his  face,  because  he  thought  him- 
self unobserved  and  for  a  space  had  cast  his  mask 
aside.  He  stood  and  gazed  as  a  man  who,  starving 
at  soul,  fed  himself  through  his  eyes,  having  no  hope 
of  other  sustenance,  or  as  a  man  weary  with  long  car- 
rying of  a  burden,  for  a  space  laid  it  down  for  rest 
and  to  gather  power  to  go  on.  She  heard  him  draw 
a  deep  sigh,  almost  stifled  in  its  birth,  and  there  was 
that  in  his  face  which  she  felt  it  was  unseemly  that 
a  stranger  like  herself  should  behold,  himself  unknow- 
ing of  her  near  presence. 

She  gently  rose  from  her  corner,  wondering  if  she 
could  retire  from  her  retreat  without  attracting  his 
observation,  but  as  she  did  so,  chance  caused  him  to 
withdraw  himself  a  little  further  within  the  shadow 
of  the  screen,  and  doing  so,  he  beheld  her. 

Then  his  face  changed,  the  mask  of  noble  calmness, 
for  a  moment  fallen,  resumed  itself,  and  he  bowed 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          153 

before  her  with  the  reverence  of  a  courtly  gentleman 
undisturbed  by  the  unexpectedness  of  his  recognition 
of  her  neighborhood. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "pardon  my  unconsciousness  that 
you  were  near  me.  You  would  pass  ?"  And  he  made 
way  for  her. 

She  courtesied,  asking  his  pardon  with  her  dull, 
soft  eyes. 

"Sir,"  she  answered,  "I  but  retired  here  for  a  mo- 
ment's rest  from  the  throng  and  gaiety,  to  which  I 
am  unaccustomed.  But  chiefly  I  sat  in  retirement  that 
I  might  watch  my  sister." 

"Your  sister,  madam?"  he  said,  as  if  the  question- 
ing echo  were  almost  involuntary,  and  he  bowed  again 
in  some  apology. 

"My  Lady  Dunstanwolde,"  she  replied ;  "I  take  such 
pleasure  in  her  loveliness,  and  in  all  that  pertains  to 
her,  it  is  a  happiness  to  me  to  but  look  on." 

Whatsoever  the  thing  was  in  her  loving  mood  which 
touched  him  and  found  echo  in  his  own,  he  was  so  far 
moved  that  he  answered  to  her  with  something  less  of 
ceremoniousness,  remembering  also  in  truth  that  she 
was  a  lady  he  had  heard  of,  and  recalling  her  relation- 
ship and  name. 

"It  is,  then,  Mistress  Anne  Wildairs  I  am  honored 
by  having  speech  with,"  he  said.  "My  Lady  Dunstan- 
wolde has  spoken  of  you  in  my  presence.  I  am  my 
Lord's  kinsman,  the  Duke  of  Osmonde,"  again  bow- 
ing, and  Anne  courtesied  low  once  more. 

Despite  his  greatness  she  felt  a  kindness  and  grace 


154          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

in  him  which  were  not  condescension,  and  which  al- 
most dispelled  the  timidity  which,  being  part  of  her 
nature,  so  unduly  beset  her  at  all  times  when  she  ad- 
dressed or  was  addressed  by  a  stranger.  John  Oxon, 
bowing  his  bright  curls  and  seeming  ever  to  mock 
with  his  smiles,  had  caused  her  to  be  overcome  with 
shy  awkwardness  and  blushes,  but  this  man,  who 
seemed  as  far  above  him  in  person  and  rank  and  mind 
as  a  god  is  above  a  graceful  painted  puppet,  even  ap- 
peared to  give  of  his  own  noble  strength  to  her  poor 
weakness.  He  bore  himself  toward  her  with  a  courtly 
respect  such  as  no  human  being  had  ever  shown  to 
her  before.  He  besought  her  again  to  be  seated  in 
her  nook,  and  stood  before  her  conversing  with  such 
delicate  sympathy  with  her  mood  as  seemed  to  raise 
her  to  the  pedestal  on  which  stood  less  humble  women. 
All  those  who  passed  before  them  he  knew  and  could 
speak  easily  of.  The  high  deeds  of  those  who  were 
statesmen,  or  men  honored  at  Court,  or  in  the  field, 
he  was  familiar  with,  and  of  those  who  were  beau- 
ties or  notable  gentlewomen  he  had  always  something 
courtly  to  say. 

Her  own  worship  of  her  sister  she  knew  full  well 
he  understood,  though  he  spoke  of  her  but  little. 

"Well  may  you  gaze  at  her,"  he  said.  "So  does  all 
the  world — and  honors  and  adores." 
.  He  proffered  her,  at  last,  his  arm,  and  she,  having 
strangely  taken  courage,  let  him  lead  her  through  the 
rooms  and  persuade  her  to  some  refreshment.  Seeing1 
her  so  wondrously  emerged  from  her  chrysalis  and 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          155 

under  the  protection  of  so  distinguished  a  companion, 
all  looked  at  her  as  she  passed  with  curious  amaze- 
ment; and  indeed  Mistress  Anne  was  all  but  over- 
powered by  the  reverence  shown  them  as  they  made 
their  way. 

As  they  came  again  into  the  apartment  wherein  the 
host  and  hostess  received  their  guests,  Anne  felt  her 
escort  pause,  and  looked  up  at  him  to  see  the  mean- 
ing of  his  sudden  hesitation.  He  was  gazing  intently, 
not  at  Clorinda,  but  at  the  Earl  of  Dunstanwolde. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "pardon  me  that  I  seem  to  detain 
you;  but — but  I  look  at  my  kinsman.  Madam,"  with 
a  sudden  fear  in  his  voice,  "he  is  ailing — he  sways  as 
he  stands.  Let  us  go  to  him  quickly !  He  falls !" 

And,  in  sooth,  at  that  very  moment  there  arose  a 
dismayed  cry  from  the  guests  about  them,  and  there 
was  a  surging  movement,  and  as  they  pressed  forward 
themselves  through  the  throng,  Anne  saw  Dunstan- 
wolde no  more  above  the  people,  for  he  had  indeed 
fallen,  and  lay  outstretched  and  deathly  on  the  floor. 

'Twas  but  a  few  seconds  before  she  and  Osmonde 
were  close  enough  to  him  to  mark  his  sunken  face 
and  ghastly  pallor  and  a  strange  dew  starting  out  upon 
his  brow. 

But  'twas  his  wife  who  knelt  beside  his  prostrate 
body,  waving  all  else  aside  with  a  great  majestic  ges- 
ture of  her  arm. 

"Back!  back!"  she  cried.  "Air!  air  and  water. 
My  Lord!  My  dear  Lord!" 

But  he  did  not  answer  or  even  stir — though  she 


1 56          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

bent  close  to  him  and  thrust  her  hand  within  his  breast. 
And  then  the  frightened  guests  beheld  a  strange  but 
beautiful  and  loving  thing,  such  as  might  have  moved 
any  heart  to  tenderness  and  wonder.  This  great 
beauty,  this  worshiped  creature,  put  her  arms  beneath 
and  about  the  helpless,  awful  body — for  so  its  pallor 
and  stillness  indeed  made  it — and  lifted  it  in  their 
powerful  whiteness  as  if  it  had  been  the  body  of  a 
child,  and  so  bore  it  to  a  couch  near  by  and  laid  it 
down,  kneeling  beside  it.  Anne  and  Osmonde  were 
beside  her.  Osmonde  pale  himself,  but  gently  calm 
and  strong.  He  had  despatched  for  a  physician  the 
instant  he  saw  the  fall. 

"My  Lady,"  he  said,  bending  over  her,  "permit  me 
to  approach !  I  have  some  knowledge  of  these  seizures. 
Your  pardon !" 

He  knelt  also  and  took  the  moveless  hand,  feeling 
the  pulse;  he,  too,  thrust  his  hand  within  the  breast 
and  held  it  there,  looking  at  the  sunken  face. 

"My  dear  Lord,"  her  Ladyship  was  saying,  as  if 
to  the  prostrate  man's  ear  alone,  knowing  that  her 
tender  voice  must  reach  him  if  aught  would — as  indeed 
was  truth.  "Edward !  My  dear — dear  Lord !" 

Osmonde  held  the  hand  steadily  over  the  heart — 
the  guests  shrunk  back,  stricken  with  terror. 

There  was  that  in  this  corner  of  the  splendid  room 
which  turned  faces  pale. 

Osmonde  slowly  withdrew  his  hand,  and  turning  to 
the  kneeling  woman — with  a  pallor  like  that  of  marble, 
but  with  a  noble  tenderness  and  pity  in  his  eyes — 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          157 

"My  lady,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  brave  woman.  Your 
great  courage  must  sustain  you.  His  heart  beats  no 
more.  A  noble  life  is  finished." 

The  guests  heard  and  drew  still  farther  back,  a 
woman  or  two  faintly  whimpering,  a  hurrying  lackey 
parted  the  crowd,  and  so,  way  being  made  for  him, 
the  physician  came  quickly  forward. 

Anne  put  her  shaking  hands  up  to  cover  her  gaze. 
Osmonde  stood  still,  looking  down.  My  Lady  of  Dun- 
stanwolde  knelt  by  the  couch  and  hid  her  beautiful  face 
upon  the  dead  man's  breast. 


CHAPTER    XII 

WHICH    TREATS    OF    THE    OBSEQUIES    OF    MY    LORD    OF 

DUNSTANWOLDE,   OF   HIS   LADY'S   WIDOWHOOD, 

AND  OF  HER  RETURN  TO  TOWN 

ALL  that  remained  of  my  Lord  Dunstanwolde  was 
borne  back  to  his  ancestral  home,  and  there  laid  to 
rest  in  the  ancient  tomb  in  which  his  fathers  slept. 
Many  came  from  town  to  pay  him  respect,  and  the 
Duke  of  Osmonde  was,  as  was  but  fitting,  among 
them.  The  Countess  kept  her  own  apartments,  and 
none  but  her  sister,  Mistress  Anne,  beheld  her.  The 
night  before  the  final  ceremonies  she  spent  sitting  by 
her  lord's  coffin,  and  to  Anne  it  seemed  that  her  mood 
was  a  stranger  one  than  ever  woman  had  before  been 
ruled  by.  She  did  not  weep  or  moan,  and  only  once 
kneeled  down.  In  her  sweeping  black  robes  she  seemed 
more  a  majestic  creature  than  she  had  ever  been.  She 
sent  away  all  other  watchers,  keeping  only  her  sister 
with  her,  and  Anne  observed  in  her  a  strange  protect- 
ing gentleness  when  she  spoke  of  the  dead  man. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  dead  men  can  feel  and 
hear,"  she  said.  "Sometimes  there  has  come  into  my 
mind  —  and  made  me  shudder  —  the  thought  that 
158 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          159 

though  they  lie  so  still  mayhap  they  know  what  we 
do — and  how  they  are  spoken  of  as  nothings,  whom 
live  men  and  women  but  wait  a  moment  to  thrust 
away,  that  their  own  living  may  go  on  again  in  its 
accustomed  manner,  or  perchance  more  merrily. .  If 
my  Lord  knows  aught,  he  will  be  grateful  that  I  watch 
by  him  to-night  in  this  solemn  room.  He  was  ever 
grateful  and  moved  by  any  tenderness  of  mine." 

'Twas  as  she  said,  the  room  was  solemn,  and  this 
almost  to  awfulness.  It  was  a  huge  cold  chamber  at 
best,  and  draped  with  black  and  hung  with  hatch- 
ments, a  silent  gloom  filled  it  which  made  it  like  a 
tomb.  Tall  wax  candles  burned  in  it  dimly,  but  add- 
ing to  its  solemn  shadows  with  their  faint  light,  and 
in  his  rich  coffin  the  dead  man  lay  in  his  shroud,  his 
hands  like  carvings  of  yellowed  ivory  clasped  upon 
his  breast. 

Mistress  Anne  dared  not  have  entered  the  place 
alone,  and  was  so  overcome  at  sight  of  the  pinched 
nostrils  and  sunk  eyes  that  she  turned  cold  with  fear. 
But  Clorinda  seemed  to  feel  no  dread  or  shrinking. 
She  went  and  stood  beside  the  great  funeral-draped 
bed  of  state  on  which  the  coffin  lay,  and,  thus  stand- 
ing, looked  down  with  a  grave,  protecting  pity  in  her 
face.  Then  she  stooped  and  kissed  the  dead  man  long 
upon  the  brow. 

"I  will  sit  by  you  to-night,"  she  said.  "That  which 
lies  here  will  be  alone  to-morrow.  I  will  not  leave 
you  this  last  night.  Had  I  been  in  your  place  you 
would  not  leave  me." 


160          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

She  sat  down  beside  him  and  laid  her  strong,  warm 
hand  upon  his  cold  waxen  ones,  closing  it  over  them 
as  if  she  would  give  them  heat.  Anne  knelt  and  prayed 
— that  all  might  be  forgiven,  that  sins  might  be  blotted 
out,  that  this  kind  poor  soul  might  find  love  and  peace 
in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  might  not  learn  there 
what  might  make  bitter  the  memory  of  his  last  year 
of  rapture  and  love.  She  was  so  simple  that  she  for- 
got that  no  knowledge  of  the  past  could  embitter  aught 
when  a  soul  looked  back  from  Paradise. 

Throughout  the  watches  of  the  night,  her  sister  sat 
and  held  the  dead  man's  hand ;  she  saw  her  more  than 
once  smooth  his  gray  hair  almost  as  a  mother  might 
have  touched  a  sick  sleeping  child's;  again  she  kissed 
his  forehead,  speaking  to  him  gently  as  if  to  tell  him 
he  need  not  fear,  for  she  was  close  at  hand;  just  once 
she  knelt,  and  Anne  wondered  if  she  prayed  and  in 
what  manner,  knowing  that  prayer  was  not  her  habit. 

'Twas  just  before  dawn  she  knelt  so,  and  when  she 
rose  and  stood  beside  him,  looking  down  again,  she 
drew  from  the  folds  of  her  robe  a  little  package. 

"Anne,"  she  said,  as  she  untied  the  ribband  that 
bound  it,  "when  first  I  was  his  wife,  I  found  him  one 
day  at  his  desk  looking  at  these  things  as  they  lay  upon 
his  hand.  He  thought  at  first  it  would  offend  me  to 
find  him  so,  but  I  told  him  that  I  was  gentler  than  he 
thought — though  not  so  gentle  as  the  poor  innocent 
girl  who  died  in  giving  him  his  child.  'Twas  her  pic- 
ture he  was  gazing  at  and  a  little  ring  and  two  locks 
of  hair — one  a  brown  ringlet  from  her  head,  and  one, 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          161 

such  a  tiny  wisp  of  down,  from  the  head  of  her  infant. 
I  told  him  to  keep  them  always  and  look  at  them  often, 
remembering  how  innocent  she  had  been,  and  that  she 
had  died  for  him.  There  were  tears  on  my  hand  when 
he  kissed  it  in  thanking  me.  He  kept  the  little  package 
in  his  desk,  and  I  have  brought  it  to  him." 

The  miniature  was  of  a  sweet-faced  girl  with  large, 
loving,  childish  eyes,  and  cheeks  that  blushed  like  the 
early  morning.  Clorinda  looked  at  her  almost  with 
tenderness. 

"There  is  no  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage,  'tis 
said,"  quoth  she,  "but  were  there,  'tis  you  who  were 
his  wife — not  I.  I  was  but  a  lighter  thing,  though  I 
bore  his  name  and  he  honored  me.  When  you  and 
your  child  greet  him,  he  will  forget  me — and  all  will 
be  well." 

She  held  the  miniature  and  the  soft  hair  to  his  cold 
lips  a  moment,  and  Anne  saw  with  wonder  that  her 
own  mouth  worked.  She  slipped  the  ring  on  his  least 
finger,  and  hid  the  picture  and  the  ringlets  within  the 
palms  of  his  folded  hands. 

"He  was  a  good  man,"  she  said.  "He  was  the  first 
good  man  that  I  had  ever  known."  And  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  Anne  and  drew  her  from  the  room  with 
her,  and  two  crystal  tears  fell  upon  the  bosom  of  her 
black  robe  and  slipped  away  like  jewels. 

When  the  obsequies  were  over,  the  next  of  kin,  who 
was  heir,  came  to  take  possession  of  the  estate  which 
had  fallen  to  him,  and  the  widow  retired  to  her  father's 
house  for  seclusion  from  the  world.  The  town  house 


1 62          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

had  been  left  to  her  by  her  deceased  lord,  but  she  did 
not  wish  to  return  to  it  until  the  period  of  her  mourn- 
ing was  over  and  she  laid  aside  her  weeds.  The  in- 
come the  Earl  had  been  able  to  bestow  upon  her  made 
her  a  rich  woman,  and  when  she  chose  to  appear  again 
in  the  world  it  would  be  with  the  power  to  mingle  with 
it  fittingly. 

During  her  stay  at  her  father's  house  she  did  much 
to  make  it  a  more  suitable  abode  for  her,  ordering 
down  from  London  furnishings  and  workmen  to  set 
her  own  apartments  and  Anne's  in  order.  But  she 
would  not  occupy  the  rooms  she  had  lived  in  hereto- 
fore. For  some  reason  it  seemed  to  be  her  whim  to 
have  begun  to  have  an  enmity  for  them.  The  first  day 
she  entered  them  with  Anne  she  stopped  upon  the 
threshold. 

"I  will  not  stay  here,"  she  said.  "I  never  loved 
the  rooms — and  now  I  hate  them.  It  seems  to  me 
it  was  another  woman  who  lived  in  them — in  another 
world.  'Tis  so  long  ago  that  'tis  ghostly.  Make  ready 
the  old  red  chambers  for  me,"  to  her  woman;  "I  will 
live  there.  They  have  been  long  closed,  and  are  worm- 
eaten  and  moldy,  perchance — but  a  great  fire  will  warm 
them.  And  I  will  have  furnishings  from  London  to 
make  them  fit  for  habitation." 

The  next  day  it  seemed  for  a  brief  space  as  if  she 
would  have  changed  even  from  the  red  chamber. 

"I  did  not  know,"  she  said,  turning  with  a  sudden 
movement  from  a  side  window,  "that  one  might  see 
the  old  rose-garden  from  here.  I  would  not  have  taken 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          163 

the  room  had  I  guessed  it.    It  is  too  dreary  a  wilder- 
ness, with  its  tangle  of  briars  and  its  broken  sun-dial." 

"You  can  not  see  the  dial  from  here,"  said  Anne, 
coming  toward  her  with  a  strange  paleness  and  haste. 
"One  can  not  see  within  the  garden  from  any  window, 
surely." 

"Nay,"  said  Clorinda,  "  'tis  not  near  enough,  and 
the  hedges  are  too  high;  but  one  knows  'tis  there  and 
'tis  tiresome." 

"Let  us  draw  the  curtains  and  not  look,  and  forget 
it,"  said  poor  Anne.  And  she  drew  the  draperies  with 
a  trembling  hand,  and  ever  after,  while  they  dwelt  in 
the  room,  they  stayed  so. 

My  Lady  wore  her  mourning  for  more  than  a  year, 
and  in  her  sombre,  trailing  weeds  was  a  wonder  to 
behold.  She  lived  in  her  father's  house  and  saw  no 
company,  but  sat  or  walked  and  drove  with  her  sister 
Anne,  and  visited  the  poor.  The  perfect  stateliness 
of  her  decorum  was  more  talked  about  than  any  lev- 
ity would  have  been,  those  who  were  wont  to  gossip 
expecting  that,  having  made  her  fine  match  and  been 
so  soon  rid  of  her  lord,  she  would  begin  to  show  her 
strange,  wild  breeding  again,  and  indulge  in  fantastical 
whims.  That  she  should  wear  her  mourning  with 
unflinching  dignity  and  withdraw  from  the  world  as 
strictly  as  if  she  had  been  a  lady  of  royal  blood  mourn- 
ing her  prince,  was  the  unexpected  thing,  and  so  was 
talked  of  everywhere. 

At  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  month  she  sent  one 
day  for  Anne,  who,  coming  at  her  bidding,  found  her 


1 64          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

standing  in  her  chamber  surrounded  by  black  robes 
and  draperies  piled  upon  the  bed  and  chairs  and  floor, 
their  sombreness  darkening  the  room  like  a  cloud;  but 
she  stood  in  their  midst  in  a  trailing  garment  of  pure 
white,  and  in  her  bosom  was  a  bright-red  rose  tied 
with  a  knot  of  scarlet  ribband,  whose  ends  fell  floating. 
Her  woman  was  upon  her  knees  before  a  coffer,  in 
which  she  was  laying  the  weeds  as  she  folded  them. 

Mistress  Anne  paused  within  the  doorway,  her  eyes 
dazzled  by  the  tall,  radiant  shape  and  blot  of  scarlet 
color,  as  if  by  the  shining  of  the  sun.  She  knew  in 
that  moment  that  all  was  changed,  and  that  the  world 
of  darkness  they  had  been  living  in  for  the  past  months 
was  swept  from  existence.  When  her  sister  had  worn 
her  mourning  weeds  she  had  seemed  somehow  almost 
pale,  but  now  she  stood  in  the  sunlight  with  the  rich 
scarlet  on  her  cheek  and  lip,  and  the  stars  in  her 
great  eyes. 

"Come  in,  sister  Anne,"  she  said.  "I  lay  aside  my 
weeds,  and  my  woman  is  folding  them  away  for  me. 
Dost  know  of  any  poor  creature,  newly  left  a  widow, 
whom  some  of  them  would  be  a  help  to  ?  "Pis  a  pity 
that  so  much  sombreness  should  lie  in  chests  when 
there  are  perhaps  poor  souls  to  whom  it  would  be 
a  godsend." 

Before  the  day  was  over  there  was  not  a  shred  of 
black  stuff  left  in  sight,  such  as  had  not  been  sent  out 
of  the  house  to  be  distributed  being  packed  away  in 
coffers  in  the  garrets  under  the  leads. 

"You  will  wear  it  no  more,  sister?"  Anne  asked 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          165 

once.  "You  will  wear  gay  colors,  as  if  it  had  never 
been?" 

"It  is  as  if  it  had  never  been,"  Clorinda  answered. 
"Ere  now  her  lord  is  happy  with  her,  and  he  is  so 
happy  that  I  am  forgot.  I  had  a  fancy  that — perhaps 
at  first —  Well,  if  he  had  looked  down  on  earth,  re- 
membering, he  would  have  seen  I  was  faithful  in  my 
honoring  of  him.  But  now,  I  am  sure — "  she  stopped, 
with  a  half  laugh.  "  'Twas  but  a  fancy,"  she  said. 
"Perchance  he  has  known  naught  since  that  night  he 
fell  at  my  feet;  and  even  so,  poor  gentleman,  he  hath 
a  happy  fate.  Yes,  I  will  wear  gay  colors,"  flinging 
up  her  arms  as  if  she  dropped  fetters,  and  stretched 
her  beauteous  limbs  for  ease.  "Gay  colors,  and  roses 
and  rich  jewels,  and  all  things — all  that  will  make  me 
beautiful !" 

The  next  day  there  came  a  chest  from  London, 
packed  close  with  splendid  raiment;  when  she  drove 
out  again  in  her  chariot  her  servants'  sad-colored  liv- 
eries had  been  laid  by,  and  she  was  attired  in  rich 
hues,  amidst  which  she  glowed  like  some  flower  new 
bloomed. 

Her  house  in  town  was  thrown  open  again  and  set 
in  order  for  her  coming.  She  made  her  journey  back 
in  state,  Mistress  Anne  accompanying  her  in  her  trav- 
eling coach.  As  she  passed  over  the  high-road  with 
her  equipage  and  her  retinue,  or  spent  the  night  for 
rest  at  the  best  inns  in  the  towns  and  villages,  all 
seemed  to  know  her  name  and  state. 

"  Tis  the  young  widow  of  the  Earl  of  Dunstan- 


1 66          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

wolde,"  people  said  to  each  other.  "She  that  is  the 
great  beauty,  and  of  such  a  wit  and  spirit  that  she  is 
scarce  like  a  mere  young  lady.  'Twas  said  she  wed 
him  for  his  rank,  but  afterward  'twas  known  she  made 
him  a  happy  gentleman,  though  she  gave  him  no  heir. 
She  wore  weeds  for  him  beyond  the  accustomed  time, 
and  is  but  now  issuing  from  her  retirement." 

Mistress  Anne  felt  as  if  she  were  attending  some 
royal  lady's  progress ;  people  so  gazed  at  them,  nudged 
each  other,  wondered,  and  admired. 

"You  do  not  mind  that  all  eyes  rest  on  you," 
she  said  to  her  sister.  "You  are  accustomed  to  be 
gazed  at." 

"I  have  been  gazed  at  all  my  life,"  my  Lady  an- 
swered. "I  scarce  take  note  of  it." 

On  their  arrival  at  home  they  met  with  fitting  wel- 
come and  reverence.  The  doors  of  the  town  house 
were  thrown  open  wide,  and  in  the  hall  the  servants 
stood  in  line,  the  housekeeper  at  the  head  with  her 
keys  at  her  girdle,  the  little,  jet-black  negro  page 
grinning  beneath  his  turban  with  joy  to  see  his  lady 
again,  he  worshiping  her  as  a  sort  of  fetish  after  the 
manner  of  his  race.  'Twas  his  duty  to  take  heed  to 
the  pet  dogs,  and  he  stood  holding  by  their  little  sil- 
ver chains  a  swart-faced  pug  and  a  pretty  spaniel 
His  lady  stopped  a  moment  to  pat  them  and  to  speak 
to  him  a  word  of  praise  of  their  condition,  and,  being 
so  favored,  he  spoke,  also  rolling  his  eyes  in  his  delight 
at  finding  somewhat  to  impart. 

"Yesterday,  Ladyship,  when  I  took  them  out,"  he 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          167 

said,  "a  gentleman  marked  them,  knowing  whose  they 
were.  He  asked  me  when  my  Lady  came  again  to 
town,  and  I  answered  him  to-day.  'Twas  the  fair 
gentleman  in  his  own  hair." 

"  'Twas  Sir  John  Oxon,  your  Ladyship,"  said  the 
lackey  nearest  to  him. 

Her  Ladyship  left  caressing  her  spaniel  and  stood 
upright.  Little  Nero  was  frightened,  fearing  she  was 
angered,  she  stood  so  straight  and  tall,  but  she  said 
nothing  and  passed  on. 

At  the  top  of  the  staircase  she  turned  to  Mistress 
Anne  with  a  laugh. 

"Thy  favorite  again,  Anne,"  she  said.  "He  means 
to  haunt  us — now  we  are  alone.  'Tis  thee  he  comes 
after." 


CHAPTER    XIII 

WHEREIN    A    DEADLY    WAR    BEGINS 

THE  town  and  the  world  of  fashion  greeted  her 
on  her  return  with  open  arms.  Those  who  looked 
on  when  she  bent  the  knee  to  kiss  the  hand  of  royalty 
at  the  next  drawing-room,  whispered  among  them- 
selves that  bereavement  had  not  dimmed  her  charms, 
which  were  even  more  radiant  than  they  had  been 
at  her  presentation  on  her  marriage,  and  that  the  mind 
of  no  man  or  woman  could  dwell  on  aught  as  mourn- 
ful as  widowhood  in  connection  with  her;  or,  indeed, 
could  think  of  anything  but  her  brilliant  beauty.  'Twas 
as  if  from  this  time  she  was  launched  into  a  new  life. 
Being  rich,  of  high  rank,  and  no  longer  an  unmarried 
woman,  her  position  had  a  dignity  and  freedom  which 
there  was  no  creature  but  might  have  envied.  As  the 
wife  of  Dunstanwolde  she  had  been  the  fashion  and 
adored  by  all  who  dared  adore  her,  but  as  his  widow 
she  was  surrounded  and  besieged.  A  fortune,  a  toast, 
a  wit,  and  a  beauty,  she  combined  all  the  things  either 
man  or  woman  could  desire  to  attach  themselves  to 
the  train  of;  and  had  her  air  been  less  regal  and  her 
wit  less  keen  of  edge,  she  would  have  been  so  beset 
168 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          169 

by  flatterers  and  toadies  that  life  would  have  been 
burdensome.  But  this  she  would  not  have,  and  was 
swift  enough  to  detect  the  man  whose  debts  drove  him 
to  the  expedient  of  daring  to  privately  think  of  the 
usefulness  of  her  fortune,  or  the  woman  who  maneu- 
vred  to  gain  reputation  or  success  by  means  of  her 
position  and  power. 

"They  would  be  about  me  like  vultures  if  I  were 
weak  fool  enough  to  let  them,"  she  said  to  Anne. 
"They  cringe  and  grovel  like  spaniels,  and  flatter  till 
'tis  like  to  make  one  sick.  'Tis  always  so  with  toad- 
ies; they  have  not  the  wit  to  see  that  their  flattery 
is  an  insolence,  since  it  supposes  adulation  so  rare  that 
one  may  be  moved  by  it.  The  men  with  empty  pockets 
would  marry  me,  forsooth,  and  the  women  be  dragged 
into  company  clinging  to  my  petticoats.  But  they  are 
learning.  I  do  not  shrink  from  giving  them  sharp 
lessons." 

This  she  did  without  mercy,  and  in  time  cleared  her- 
self of  hangers-on  so  that  her  banquets  and  assemblies 
were  the  most  distinguished  of  the  time,  and  the 
men  who  paid  their  court  to  her  were  of  such 
place  and  fortune  that  their  worship  could  but  be 
disinterested. 

Among  the  earliest  to  wait  upon  her  was  his  Grace 
of  Osmonde,  who  found  her  one  day  alone,  save  for 
the  presence  of  Mistress  Anne,  whom  she  kept  often 
with  her.  When  the  lackey  announced  him,  Anne, 
who  sat  upon  the  same  seat  with  her,  felt  her  slightly 
start,  and,  looking  up,  saw  in  her  countenance  a  thing 
8  VOL.  2 


170          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

she  had  never  beheld  before,  nor  had  indeed  ever 
dreamed  of  beholding.  It  was  a  strange,  sweet  crim- 
son which  flowed  over  her  face,  and  seemed  to  give 
a  wondrous  deepness  to  her  lovely  orbs.  She  rose  as 
a  queen  might  have  risen  had  a  king  come  to  her,  but 
never  had  there  been  such  pulsing  softness  in  her  look 
before.  'Twas  in  some  curious  fashion  like  the  look 
of  a  girl,  and  in  sooth  she  was  but  a  girl  in  years, 
but  so  different  to  all  others  of  her  age,  and  had  lived 
so  singular  a  life,  that  no  one  ever  thought  of  her 
but  as  a  woman,  or  would  have  deemed  it  aught  but 
folly  to  credit  her  with  any  tender  emotion  or  blush- 
ing warmth  girlhood  might  be  allowed. 

His  Grace  was  as  courtly  of  bearing  as  he  had  ever 
been.  He  stayed  not  long,  and  during  his  visit  con- 
versed but  on  such  subjects  as  a  kinsman  may  gra- 
ciously touch  upon ;  but  Anne  noted  in  him  a  new  look 
also,  though  she  could  scarce  have  told  what  it  might 
be.  She  thought  that  he  looked  happier,  and  her  fancy 
was  that  some  burden  had  fallen  from  him. 

Before  he  went  away  he  bent  low  and  long  over 
Clorinda's  hand,  pressing  his  lips  to  it  with  a  tender- 
ness which  strove  not  to  conceal  itself.  And  the  hand 
was  not  withdrawn,  her  Ladyship  standing  in  sweet 
yielding,  the  tender  crimson  trembling  on  her  cheek. 
Anne  herself  trembled,  watching  her  new,  strange  love- 
liness with  a  sense  of  fascination;  she  could  scarce 
withdraw  her  eyes,  it  seemed  so  as  if  the  woman  had 
been  reborn. 

"Your  Grace  will  come  to  us  again,"  my  Lady  said, 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          171 

in  a  soft  voice.  "We  are  two  lonely  women" — with 
her  radiant  compelling  smile — "and  need  your  kindly 
countenancing." 

His  eyes  dwelt  deep  in  hers  as  he  answered,  and 
there  was  a  flush  upon  his  own  cheek,  man  and  warrior 
though  he  was. 

"If  I  might  come  as  often  as  I  would,"  he  said, 
"I  should  be  at  your  door,  perhaps,  with  too  great 
frequency." 

"Nay,  your  Grace,"  she  answered;  "come  as  often 
as  we  would — and  see  who  wearies  first.  'Twill  not 
be  ourselves." 

He  kissed  her  hand  again,  and  this  time  'twas  pas- 
sionately, and  when  he  left  her  presence  it  was  with 
a  look  of  radiance  on  his  noble  face,  and  with  the 
bearing  of  a  king  new-crowned. 

For  a  few  moments'  space  she  stood  where  he  had 
parted  from  her,  looking  as  though  listening  to  the 
sound  of  his  step,  as  if  she  would  not  lose  a  footfall; 
then  she  went  to  the  window  and  stood  among  the 
flowers  there,  looking  down  into  the  street,  and  Anne 
saw  that  she  watched  his  equipage. 

'Twas  early  summer,  and  the  sunshine  flooded  her 
from  head  to  foot ;  the  window  and  balcony  were  full 
of  flowers — yellow  jonquils  and  daffodils,  white  nar- 
cissus, and  all  things  fragrant  of  the  spring.  The 
scent  of  them  floated  about  her  like  an  incense,  and 
a  straying  zephyr  blew  great  puffs  of  their  sweetness 
back  into  the  room.  Anne  felt  it  all  about  her  and 
remembered  it  until  the  hour  she  died. 


172          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

Clorinda's  bosom  rose  high  in  an  exultant,  raptur- 
ous sigh. 

"  Tis  the  spring  that  comes,"  she  murmured,  breath- 
lessly. "Never  hath  it  come  to  me  before." 

Even  as  she  said  the  words,  at  the  very  moment  of 
her  speaking,  fate — a  strange  fate  indeed — brought  to 
her  yet  another  visitor.  The  door  was  thrown  open 
wide,  and  in  he  came,  a  lackey  crying  loud  his  name. 
'Twas  Sir  John  Oxon. 

Those  of  the  world  of  fashion  who  were  wont  to 
gossip  had  bestowed  upon  them  a  fruitful  subject  for 
discussion  over  their  tea-tables,  on  the  future  of  the 
widowed  Lady  Dunstanwolde.  All  the  men  being  en- 
amored of  her,  'twas  not  likely  that  she  would  long 
remain  unmarried,  her  period  of  mourning  being  over, 
and  accordingly  forthwith  there  was  every  day  chosen 
for  her  a  new  husband  by  those  who  concerned  them- 
selves in  her  affairs,  and  they  were  many.  One  week 
'twas  a  great  general  she  was  said  to  smile  on,  again 
a  great  beau  and  female  conqueror,  it  being  argued 
that  having  made  her  first  marriage  for  rank  and 
wealth,  and  being  a  passionate  and  fantastic  beauty, 
she  would  this  time  allow  herself  to  be  ruled  by  her 
caprice  and  wed  for  love;  again,  a  certain  marquis 
was  named,  and  after  him  a  young  earl  renowned  for 
both  beauty  and  wealth;  but  though  each  and  all  of 
those  selected  were  known  to  have  laid  themselves  at 
her  feet,  none  of  them  seemed  to  have  met  with  the 
favor  they  besought. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          173 

There  were  two  men,  however,  who  were  more 
spoken  of  than  all  the  rest,  and  whose  court  awak- 
ened a  more  lively  interest — indeed,  'twas  an  interest 
which  was  lively  enough  at  times  to  become  almost 
a  matter  of  contention ;  for  those  who  upheld  the  cause 
of  the  one  man  would  not  hear  of  the  success  of  the 
other,  the  claims  of  each  being  considered  of  such  dif- 
ferent nature.  These  two  men  were  the  Duke  of  Os- 
monde  and  Sir  John  Oxon.  'Twas  the  soberer  and 
more  dignified  who  were  sure  his  Grace  had  but  to 
proffer  his  suit  to  gain  it,  and  their  sole  wonder  lay 
in  that  he  did  not  speak  more  quickly. 

"But  being  a  man  of  such  noble  mind,"  'twas  said, 
"it  may  be  that  he  would  leave  her  to  her  freedom 
yet  a  few  months,  because,  despite  her  stateliness,  she 
is  but  young,  and  'twould  be  like  his  honorableness  to 
wish  that  she  should  see  many  men  while  she  is  free 
to  choose,  as  she  has  never  been  before.  For  these 
days  she  is  not  a  poor  beauty,  as  she  was  when  she 
took  Dunstanwolde." 

The  less  serious,  or  less  worldly,  especially  the  sen- 
timental spinsters  and  matrons  and  romantic  young, 
who  had  heard  and  enjoyed  the  rumors  of  Mistress 
Clorinda  Wildairs's  strange  early  days,  were  prone  to 
build  much  upon  a  certain  story  of  that  time. 

"Sir  John  Oxon  was  her  first  love,"  they  said.  "He 
went  to  her  father's  house  a  beautiful  young  man,  in 
his  earliest  bloom,  and  she  had  never  encountered  such 
an  one  before,  having  only  known  country  dolts  and 
her  father's  friends.  'Twas  said  they  loved  each  other, 


174         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

but  were  both  passionate  and  proud,  and  quarreled  bit- 
terly. Sir  John  went  to  France  to  strive  to  forget  her 
in  gay  living — he  even  obeyed  his  mother  and  paid 
court  to  another  woman — and  Mistress  Clorinda,  being 
of  fierce  haughtiness,  revenged  herself  by  marrying 
Lord  Dunstanwolde." 

"But  she  has  never  deigned  to  forgive  him,"  'twas 
also  said.  "She  is  too  haughty  and  of  too  high  a  tem- 
per to  forgive  easily  that  a  man  should  seem  to  desert 
her  for  another  woman's  favor.  Even  when  'twas 
whispered  that  she  favored  him  she  was  disdainful, 
and  sometimes  flouted  him  bitterly,  as  was  her  way 
with  all  men.  She  was  never  gentle,  and  had  always 
a  cutting  wit.  She  will  use  him  hardly  before  she 
relents,  but  if  he  sues  patiently  enough,  with  such 
grace  as  he  uses  with  other  women,  love  will  conquer 
her  at  last,  for  'twas  her  first." 

She  showed  him  no  great  favor,  it  was  true ;  and  yet 
it  seemed  she  granted  him  more  privilege  than  she  had 
done  during  her  lord's  life,  for  he  was  persistent  in  his 
following  her,  and  would  come  to  her  house  whether 
of  her  will  or  of  his  own.  Sometimes  he  came  there 
when  the  Duke  of  Osmonde  was  with  her — this  hap- 
pened more  than  once — and  then  her  Ladyship's  face, 
which  was  ever  warmly  beautiful  when  Osmonde  was 
near,  would  curiously  change.  It  would  grow  pale 
and  cold,  but  in  her  eyes  would  burn  a  strange  light, 
which  one  man  knew  was  as  the  light  in  the  eyes  of 
a  tigress  lying  chained  but  crouching  to  leap. 

But  it  was  not  Osmonde  who  felt  this ;  he  saw  only 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          175 

that  she  changed  color,  and  having  heard  the  story 
of  her  girlhood,  a  little  chill  of  doubt  would  fall  upon 
his  noble  heart.  It  was  not  doubt  of  her,  but  of  him- 
self, and  fear  that  his  great  passion  made  him  blind; 
for  he  was  the  one  man  chivalrous  enough  to  remem- 
ber how  young  she  was,  and  to  see  the  cruelty  of  the 
fate  which  had  given  her  unmothered  childhood  into 
the  hands  of  a  coarse  roisterer,  making  her  his  play- 
thing and  his  whim.  And  if  in  her  first  hours  of 
bloom  she  had  been  thrown  with  youthful  manhood 
and  beauty,  what  more  in  the  course  of  nature  than 
that  she  should  have  learned  to  love,  and  being  sep- 
arated from  her  young  lover  by  their  mutual  youth- 
ful faults  of  pride  and  passionateness  of  temper,  what 
more  natural  than,  being  free  again,  and  he  suing  with 
all  his  soul,  that  her  heart  should  return  to  him,  even 
though  through  a  struggle  with  pride.  In  her  lord's 
lifetime  he  had  not  seen  Oxon  near  her,  and  in  those 
days  when  he  had  so  struggled  with  his  own  surging 
love  and  striven  to  bear  himself  nobly,  he  had  kept 
away  from  her,  knowing  that  his  passion  was  too  great 
and  strong  for  any  man  to  always  hold  at  bay  and 
make  no  sign,  because  at  brief  instants  he  trembled 
before  the  thought  that  in  her  eyes  he  had  seen  that 
which  would  have  sprung  to  answer  the  same  self  in 
him  if  she  had  been  a  free  woman.  But  now,  when 
despite  her  coldness,  which"  never  melted  to  John  Oxon, 
she  still  turned  pale  and  seemed  to  fall  under  a  re- 
straint on  his  coming,  a  man  of  sufficient  high  dignity 
to  be  splendidly  modest  where  his  own  merit  was  con- 


176          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

cerned,  might  well  feel  that  for  this  there  must  be  a 
reason,  and  it  might  be  a  grave  one. 

So,  though  he  would  not  give  up  his  suit  until  he 
was  sure  'twas  either  useless  or  unfair,  he  did  not 
press  it  as  he  would  have  done,  but  saw  his  lady  when 
he  could,  and  watched  with  the  tenderness  of  passion 
her  lovely  face  and  eyes.  But  one  short  town  season 
passed  before  he  won  his  prize,  but  to  poor  Anne  it 
seemed  that  in  its  passing  she  lived  years. 

Poor  woman,  as  she  had  grown  thin  and  large-eyed 
in  those  days  gone  by,  she  grew  so  again.  Time  in 
passing  had  taught  her  so  much  that  others  did  not 
know,  and  as  she  served  her  sister,  and  waited  on 
her  wishes,  she  saw  that  of  which  no  other  dreamed, 
and  saw  without  daring  to  speak,  or  show  by  any  sign, 
her  knowledge. 

The  day  when  Lady  Dunstanwolde  had  turned  from 
standing  among  her  daffodils  and  had  found  herself 
confronting  the  open  door  of  her  salon,  and  John 
Oxon  passing  through  it,  Mistress  Anne  had  seen  that 
in  her  face  and  his  which  had  given  to  her  a  shock  of 
terror.  In  John  Oxon's  blue  eyes  there  had  been  a 
set,  fierce  look,  and  in  Clorinda's  a  blaze,  which  had 
been  like  a  declaration  of  war.  And  these  same  looks 
she  had  seen  since  that  day,  again  and  again.  Gradu- 
ally it  had  become  her  sister's  habit  to  take  Anne  with 
her  into  the  world  as  she  had  not  done  before  her 
widowhood,  and  Anne  knew  whence  this  custom  came. 
There  were  times  when,  by  use  of  her  presence,  she 
could  avoid  those  she  wished  to  thrust  aside,  and  Anne 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          177 

noted  with  a  cold  sinking  of  the  spirit  that  the  one  she 
would  plan  to  elude  most  frequently  was  Sir  John 
Oxon ;  and  this  was  not  done  easily.  The  young  man's 
gay  lightness  of  demeanor  had  changed.  The  few 
years  that  had  passed  since  he  had  come  to  pay  his 
court  to  the  young  beauty  in  male  attire,  had  brought 
experiences  to  him  which  had  been  bitter  enough.  He 
had  squandered  his  fortune  and  failed  to  reinstate  him- 
self by  marriage,  his  dissipations  had  told  upon  him, 
and  he  had  lost  his  spirit  and  good  humor,  his  mock- 
ing wit  had  gained  a  bitterness,  his  gallantry  had  no 
longer  the  gaiety  of  youth.  And  the  woman  he  had 
loved  for  an  hour  with  youthful  passion,  and  had 
dared  to  dream  of  casting  aside  in  boyish  insolence, 
had  risen  like  a  phenix  and  soared  high  and  trium- 
phant to  the  very  sun  itself. 

"He  was  ever  base,"  Clorinda  had  said.  "As  he 
was  at  first  he  is  now,"  and  in  the  saying  there  was 
truth. 

If  she  had  been  helpless  and  heartbroken,  and  had 
pined  for  him,  he  would  have  treated  her  as  a  victim, 
and  disdained  her  humiliation  and  grief;  magnificent, 
powerful,  rich,  in  fullest  beauty  and  disdaining  him- 
self, she  filled  him  with  a  mad  passion  of  love,  which 
was  strangely  mixed  with  hatred  and  cruelty.  To 
see  her  surrounded  by  her  worshipers,  courted  by  the 
Court  itself,  all  eyes  drawn  toward  her  as  she  moved, 
all  hearts  laid  at  her  feet,  was  torture  to  him.  In 
such  cases  as  his  and  hers  it  was  the  woman  who 
should  sue  for  love's  return  and  watch  the  averted 


178          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

face,  longing  for  the  moment  when  it  would  deign 
to  turn  and  she  could  catch  the  cold  eye  and  plead 
piteously  with  her  own.  This  he  had  seen,  this  men, 
like  himself  but  older,  had  taught  him  with  vicious 
art;  but  here  was  a  woman  who  had  scorned  him  at 
the  hour  which  should  have  been  the  moment  of  his 
greatest  powerfulness,  who  had  mocked  at  and  lashed 
him  in  the  face  with  the  high  derision  of  a  creature 
above  law,  and  who  never  for  one  instant  had  bent 
her  neck  to  the  yoke  which  women  must  bear.  She 
had  laughed  it  to  scorn — and  him — and  all  things — 
and  gone  on  her  way,  crowned  with  her  scarlet  roses, 
to  wealth  and  rank  and  power  and  adulation,  while 
he — the  man  whose  right  it  was  to  be  transgressor — 
had  fallen  upon  hard  fortune,  and  was  losing  step  by 
step  all  she  had  won.  In  his  way  he  loved  her  madly 
— as  he  had  loved  her  before — and  as  he  would  have 
loved  any  woman  who  embodied  triumph  and  beauty, 
and  burning  with  desire  for  both,  and  with  jealous 
rage  of  all,  he  swore  he  would  not  be  outdone,  be- 
fooled, cast  aside,  and  trampled  on. 

At  the  playhouse,  when  she  looked  from  her  box, 
she  saw  him  leaning  against  some  pillar  or  stationed 
at  some  noticeable  spot,  his  bold,  blue  eyes  fixed  burn- 
ingly  upon  her.  At  fashionable  assemblies  he  made 
his  way  to  her  side  and  stood  near  her,  gazing  or 
dropping  words  into  her  ear ;  at  church  he  placed  him- 
self in  some  pew  near  by,  that  "she  and  all  the  world 
might  behold  him ;  when  she  left  her  coach  and  walked 
in  the  Mall,  he  joined  her  or  walked  behind.  At  such 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          179 

times  in  my  Lady's  close-fringed  eyes  there  shone  a 
steady  gleam,  but  they  were  ever  eyes  that  glowed, 
and  there  were  none  who  had  ever  come  close  enough 
to  her  to  know  her  well,  and  so  there  were  none  who 
read  its  meaning.  Only  Anne  knew  as  no  other  crea- 
ture could,  and  looked  on  with  secret  terror  and  dis- 
may. The  world  but  said  that  he  was  a  man  mad 
with  love,  and,  desperate  at  the  knowledge  of  the 
powerfulness  of  his  rivals,  could  not  live  beyond  sight 
of  her. 

They  did  not  hear  the  words  that  passed  between 
them  at  times,  -when  he  stood  near  her  in  some 
crowd,  and  dropped,  as  'twas  thought,  words  of  burn- 
ing prayer  and  love  into  her  ear.  'Twas  said  that  it 
was  like  her  to  listen  with  unchanging  face,  and  when 
she  deigned  reply,  to  answer  without  turning  toward 
him.  But  such  words  and  replies  it  had  more  than 
once  been  Anne's  ill-fortune  to  be  near  enough  to 
catch,  and  hearing  them  she  had  shuddered. 

One  night  at  a  grand  rout,  the  Duke  of  Osmonde 
but  just  having  left  the  reigning  beauty's  side,  she 
heard  the  voice  she  hated  close  by  her,  speaking. 

"You  think  you  can  disdain  me  to  the  end?"  it  said. 
"Your  Ladyship  is  sure  so?" 

She  did  not  turn  or  answer,  and  there  followed  a 
low  laugh. 

"You  think  a  man  will  lie  beneath  your  feet  and 
be  trodden  upon  without  speaking.  You  are  too  high 
and  bold." 

She  waved  her  painted  fan  and  gazed  steadily  before 


180         A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

her  at  the  crowd,  now  and  then  bending  her  head  in 
gracious  greeting  and  smiling  at  some  passer-by. 

"If  I  could  tell  the  story  of  the  rose-garden  and 
of  what  the  sun-dial  saw,  and  what  the  moon  shone 
on,"  he  said. 

He  heard  her  draw  her  breath  sharply  through  her 
teeth,  he  saw  her  white  bosom  lift  as  if  a  wild  beast 
leaped  within  it,  and  he  laughed  again. 

"His  Grace  of  Osmonde  returns,"  he  said,  and  then, 
marking,  as  he  never  failed  to  do  bitterly  against  his 
will,  the  grace  and  majesty  of  this  rival,  who  was 
one  of  the  greatest  and  bravest  of  England's  gentle- 
men, and  knowing  that  she  marked  it  too,  his  rage 
so  mounted  that  it  overcame  him. 

"Sometimes,"  he  said,  "methinks  that  I  shall  kill 
you !" 

"Would  you  gain  your  end  thereby?"  she  answered, 
in  a  voice  as  low  and  deadly. 

"  'Twould  frustrate  his — and  yours." 

"Do  it,  then,"  she  hissed  back;  "some  day  when 
you  think  I  fear  you." 

"  'Twould  be  too  easy,"  he  answered.  "You  fear 
it  too  little.  There  are  bitterer  things." 

She  rose  and  met  his  Grace,  who  had  approached 
her.  Always  to  his  greatness  and  noble  heart  she 
turned 'with  that  new  feeling  of  dependence  which 
her  whole  life  had  never  brought  to  her  before.  His 
deep  eyes,  falling  on  her  tenderly  as  she  rose,  were 
filled  with  protecting  concern.  Involuntarily  he  hast- 
ened his  steps. 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          181 

"Will  your  Grace  take  me  to  my  coach?"  she  said. 
"I  am  not  well.  May  I  go?"  as  gently  as  a  tender, 
appealing  girl. 

And,  moved  by  this,  as  by  her  pallor,  more  than 
his  man's  words  could  have  told,  he  gave  her  his  arm, 
and  drew  her  quickly  and  supportingly  away. 

Mistress  Anne  did  not  sleep  well  that  night,  hav- 
ing much  to  distract  her  mind  and  keep  her  awake, 
as  was  often,  in  these  days,  the  case.  When  at  length 
she  closed  her  eyes,  her  slumber  was  fitful  and  broken 
by  dreams,  and  in  the  mid-hour  of  the  darkness  she 
wakened  with  a  start,  as  if  some  sound  had  aroused 
her.  Perhaps  there  had  been  some  sound,  thougji  all 
was  still  when  she  opened  her  eyes,  but  in  the  chair 
by  her  bedside  sat  Clorinda  in  her  night-rail,  her  hands 
wrung  hard  together  on  her  knee,  her  black  eyes  star- 
ing under  a  brow  knit  into  straight,  deep  lines. 

"Sister,"  cried  Anne,  starting  up  in  bed.    "Sister!" 

Clorinda  slowly  turned  her  head  toward  her,  where- 
upon Anne  saw  that  in  her  face  there  was  a  look  of 
horror  which  struggled  with  a  grief — a  wo  too  mon- 
strous to  be  borne. 

"Lie  down,  Anne,"  she  said.  "Be  not  afraid;  'tis 
only  I,"  bitterly,  "who  need  fear." 

Anne  cowered  among  the  pillows  and  hid  her  face 
in  her  thin  hands.  She  knew  so  well  that  this  was 
true. 

"I  never  thought  the  time  would  come,"  her  sister 
said,  "when  I  should  seek  you  for  protection.  A  thing 
has  come  upon  me ;  perhaps  I  shall  go  mad.  To-night, 


1 82          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

alone  in  my  room,  I  wanted  to  sit  near  a  woman.  'Twos 
not  like  me,  was  it  ?" 

Mistress  Anne  crept  near  the  bed's  edge,  and  stretch- 
ing forth  a  hand,  touched  hers,  which  were  as  cold  as 
marble. 

"Stay  with  me,  sister,"  she  prayed.  "Sister,  do  not 
go!  What — what  can  I  say?" 

"Naught,"  was  the  steady  answer.  "There  is  naught 
to  be  said.  You  were  always  a  woman.  I  was  never 
one  till  now." 

She  rose  from  her  chair  and  threw  up  her  arms, 
pacing  to  and  fro. 

"I  am  a  desperate  creature,"  she  cried.  "Why  was 
I  born?" 

She  walked  the  room  almost  like  a  thing  mad  and 


"Why  was  I  thrown  into  the  world?"  striking  her 
breast.  "Why  was  I  made  so,  and  not  one  to  watch 
or  care  through  those  mad  years !  To  be  given  a  body 
like  this  and  tossed  to  the  wolves." 

She  turned  to  Anne,  her  arms  outstretched,  and  so 
stood  white  and  strange  and  beauteous  as  a  statue, 
with  drops  like  great  pearls  running  down  her  lovely 
cheeks,  and  she  caught  her  breath  sobbingly,  like  a 
child. 

"I  was  thrown  to  them,"  she  wailed  piteously,  "and 
they  harried  me,  and  left  the  marks  of  their  great 
teeth,  and  of  the  scars  I  can  not  rid  myself,  and  since 
it  was  my  fate,  pronounced  from  my  first  hour,  why 
was  not  this,"  clutching  her  breast,  "left  hard  as  'twas 


A    LADY   OF   QUALITY          183 

at  first?  Not  a  woman's — not  a  woman's,  but  a  she- 
cub's.  Ah!  'twas  not  just — not  just — that  it  should 
be  so!"  . 

Anne  slipped  from  her  bed  and  ran  to  her,  falling 
upon  her  knees  and  clinging  to  her,  weeping  bitterly. 

"Poor  heart!"  she  cried.    "Poor,  dearest  heart!" 

Her  touch  and  words  seemed  to  recall  Clorinda  to 
herself.  She  started,  as  if  wakened  from  a  dream,  and 
drew  her  form  up  rigid. 

"I  have  gone  mad/'  she  said.  "What  is  it  I  do?" 
She  passed  her  hand  across  her  brow  and  laughed  a 
little  wild  laugh.  "Yes,"  she  said.  "This  it  is  to  be 
a  woman,  to  turn  weak  and  run  to  other  women,  and 
weep,  and  talk.  Yes,  by  these  signs  I  am  a  woman !" 
She  stood  with  her  clenched  hands  pressed  against  her 
breast.  "In  any  fair  fight,"  she  said,  "I  could  have 
struck  back  blow  for  blow,  and  mine  would  have  been 
the  heaviest,  but  being  changed  into  a  woman,  my 
arms  are  taken  from  me.  He  who  strikes,  aims  at 
my  bared  breast,  and  that  he  knows  and  triumphs 
in." 

She  set  her  teeth  together  and  ground  them,  and 
the  look,  which  was  like  that  of  a  chained  and  harried 
tigress,  lit  itself  in  her  eyes. 

"But  there  is  none  shall  beat  me,"  she  said  through 
these  fierce  shut  teeth.  "Nay!  there  is  none!  Get  up, 
Anne,"  bending  to  raise  her.  "Get  up,  or  I  shall  be 
kneeling,  too — and  I  must  stand  upon  my  feet." 

She  made  a  motion  as  if  she  would  have  turned  and 
gone  from  the  room  without  further  explanation,  but 


1 84         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

Anne  still  clung  to  her.  She  was  afraid  of  her  again, 
but  her  piteous  love  was  stronger  than  her  fear. 

"Let  me  go  with  you,"  she  cried.  "Let  me  but 
go  and  lie  in  your  closet,  that  I  may  be  near  if  you 
should  call." 

Clorinda  put  her  hands  upon  her  shoulders,  and, 
stooping,  kissed  her,  which  in  all  their  lives  she  had 
done  but  once  or  twice. 

"God  bless  thee,  poor  Anne,"  she  said.  "I  think 
thou  wouldst  lie  on  my  threshold  and  watch  the  whole 
night  through  if  I  should  need  it ;  but  I  have  given  way 
to  womanish  vapors  too  much ;  I  must  go  and  be  alone. 
I  was  driven  by  my  thoughts  to  come  and  sit  and  look 
at  thy  good  face;  I  did  not  mean  to  wake  thee.  Go 
back  to  bed." 

She  would  be  obeyed,  and  led  Anne  to  her  couch! 
herself,  making  her  lie  down  and  drawing  the  cover- 
let about  her;  after  which  she  stood  upright,  with  a 
strange  smile,  laying  her  hands  lightly  about  her  own 
white  throat. 

"When  I  was  a  new-born  thing,  and  had  a  little 
throat  and  a  weak  breath,"  she  cried,  "  'twould  have 
been  an  easy  thing  to  end  me.  I  have  been  told  I  lay 
beneath  my  mother  when  they  found  her  dead.  If, 
when  she  felt  her  breath  leaving  her,  she  had  laid  her 
hand  upon  my  mouth  and  stopped  mine,  I  should 
not — "  with  the  little  laugh  again — "I  should  not  lie 
awake  to-night." 

And  then  she  went  away. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

CONTAINING  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  BREAKING  OF  THE 

HORSE   DEVIL,    AND    RELATES   THE   RETURNING   OF 

HIS   GRACE   OF   OSMONDE   FROM   FRANCE 

THERE  were,  in  this  strange  nature,  depths  so  awful 
and  profound  that  it  was  not  to  be  sounded  or  to  be 
judged  as  others  were.  But  one  thing  could  have 
melted  or  caused  the  unconquerable  spirit  to  bend, 
and  this  was  the  overwhelming  passion  of  love — not 
a  slight,  tender  feeling,  but  a  great  and  powerful  one, 
such  as  could  be  awakened  but  by  a  being  of  as  strong 
and  deep  a  nature  as  itself — one  who  was  in  all  things 
its  peer. 

"I  have  been  lonely — lonely  all  my  life,"  my  Lady 
Dunstanwolde  had  once  said  to  her  sister,  and  she  had 
indeed  spoken  a  truth. 

Even  in  her  childhood  she  had  felt  in  some  strange 
way  she  stood  apart  from  the  world  about  her.  Before 
she  had  been  old  enough  to  reason,  she  had  been  con- 
scious that  she  was  stronger  and  had  greater  power 
and  endurance  than  any  human  being  about  her.  Her 
strength  she  used  in  these  days  in  wilful  tyranny,  and 
indeed  it  was  so  used  for  many  a  day  when  she  was 
185 


1 86         A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

older.  The  time  had  never  been  when  an  eye  lighted 
on  her  with  indifference,  or  when  she  could  not  rule 
and  punish  as  she  willed.  As  an  infant  she  had 
browbeaten  the  women  servants  and  the  stable-boys 
and  grooms;  but,  because  of  her  quick  wit  and  clever 
tongue,  and  also  because  no  humor  ever  made  her 
aught  but  a  creature  well  worth  looking  at,  they  had 
taken  her  bullying  in  good  humor  and  loved  her  in 
their  coarse  way.  She  had  tyrannized  over  her  father 
and  his  companions,  and  they  had  adored  and  boasted 
of  her ;  but  there  had  not  been  one  among  them  whom 
she  could  have  turned  to  if  a  softer  moment  had  come 
upon  her  and  she  had  felt  the  need  of  a  friend;  nor, 
indeed,  one  whom  she  did  not  regard  privately  with 
contempt. 

A  god  or  goddess  forced  upon  earth  and  surrounded 
by  mere  human  beings  would  surely  feel  a  desolate- 
ness  beyond  the  power  of  common  words  to  express, 
and  a  human  being  endowed  with  powers  and  physical 
gifts  so  rare  as  to  be  out  of  all  keeping  with  those  of 
its  fellows  of  ordinary  build  and  mental  stature,  must 
needs  be  lonely  too. 

She  had  had  no  companion,  because  she  had  found 
none  like  herself  and  none  with  whom  she  could  have 
aught  in  common.  Anne  she  had  pitied,  being  struck 
by  some  sense  of  the  unfairness  of  her  lot  as  com- 
pared with  her  own.  John  Oxon  had  moved  her, 
bringing  to  her  her  first  knowledge  of  buoyant,  ardent 
youth,  and  blooming  strength  and  beauty.  For  Dun- 
stanwolde  she  had  felt  gratitude  and  affection,  but, 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          187 

than  these  three,  there  had  been  no  others  who  even 
distantly  had  touched  her  heart. 

The  night  she  had  given  her  promise  to  Dunstan- 
wolde  and  had  made  her  obeisance  before  his  kins- 
man as  she  had  met  his  deep  and  leonine  eye,  she  had 
known  that  'twas  the  only  man's  eye  before  which  her 
own  would  fall,  and  which  held  the  power  to  rule  her 
very  soul. 

She  did  not  think  this  as  a  romantic  girl  would 
have  thought  it;  it  was  revealed  to  her  by  a  sudden 
tempestuous  leap  of  her  heart,  and  by  a  shock  like 
terror. 

Here  was  the  man  who  was  of  her  own  build,  whose 
thews  and  sinews  of  mind  and  body  were  as  pow- 
erful as  her  own — here  was  he  who,  had  she  met 
him  one  short  year  before,  would  have  revolutionized 
her  world. 

In  the  days  of  her  wifehood,  when  she  had  read 
in  his  noble  face  something  of  that  which  he  endeav- 
ored to  command,  and  which  to  no  other  was  apparent, 
the  dignity  of  his  self-restraint  had  but  filled  her  with 
tenderness  more  passionate  and  grateful. 

"Had  he  been  a  villain  and  a  coward,"  was  her 
thought,  "he  would  have  made  my  life  a  bitter  battle 
— but  'tis  me  he  loves,  not  himself  only,  and  as  I  honor 
him  so  does  he  honor  me." 

Now  she  beheld  the  same  passion  in  his  eyes,  but 
no  more  held  in  leash ;  his  look  met  hers,  hiding  from 
her  nothing  of  what  his  high  soul  burned  with,  and 
she  was  free — free  to  answer  when  he  spoke,  and  only 


1 88          A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

feeling  one  bitterness  in  her  heart :  if  he  had  but  come 
in  time — God !  why  had  he  not  been  sent  in  time  ? 

But,  late  or  early,  he  had  come ;  and  what  they  had 
to  give  each  other  should  not  be  mocked  at  and  lost. 
The  night  she  had  ended  by  going  to  Anne's  chamber, 
she  had  paced  her  room  saying  this,  again  and  again, 
all  the  strength  of  her  being  rising  in  revolt.  She  had 
been  then  a  caged  tigress  of  a  verity;  she  had  wrung 
her  hands;  she  had  held  her  palm  hard  against  her 
leaping  heart;  she  had  walked  madly  to  and  fro,  bat- 
tling in  thought  with  what  seemed  awful  fate;  she 
had  flung  herself  upon  her  knees  and  wept  bitter, 
scalding  tears. 

"He  is  so  noble,"  she  had  cried.  "  He  is  so  noble 
— and  I  so  worship  his  nobleness — and  I  have  been 
so  base!" 

And  in  her  suffering  her  woman's  nerves  had  for 
a  moment  betrayed  her.  Heretofore  she  had  known 
no  weakness  of  her  sex,  but  the  woman  soul  in  her 
so  being  moved,  she  had  been  broken  and  conquered 
for  a  space  and  had  gone  to  Anne's  chamber,  scarcely 
knowing  what  refuge  she  so  sought.  It  had  been  a 
feminine  act,  and  she  had  realized  all  it  signified  when 
Anne  sank  weeping  by  her.  Women  who  wept  and 
prated  together  at  midnight  in  their  chambers,  ended 
by  telling  their  secrets. 

So  it  was  that  it  fell  out  that  not  on  the  next  day, 
nor  indeed  again,  did  Anne  see  the  changed  face  to 
the  sight  of  which  she  had  that  night  awakened.  It 
seemed  as  if  my  Lady,  from  that  time,  made  plans 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          189 

which  should  never  for  a  moment  leave  her  alone. 
The  next  day  she  was  busied  arranging  a  brilliant 
rout,  the  next  a  rich  banquet,  the  next  a  great  assem- 
bly; she  drove  in  the  Mall  in  her  stateliest  equipages, 
she  walked  upon  its  promenade,  surrounded  by  her 
crowd  of  courtiers,  smiling  upon  them,  and  answering 
them  with  shafts  of  graceful  wit;  the  charm  of  her 
gaiety  had  never  been  so  remarked  upon — her  air 
never  so  enchanting.  At  every  notable  gathering  in 
the  world  of  fashion  she  was  to  be  seen;  being  bid- 
den to  the  Court,  which  was  at  Hampton,  her  bril- 
liant beauty  and  spirit  so  enlivened  the  royal  dulness 
that  'twas  said  the  Queen  herself  was  scarce  resigned 
to  part  with  her,  and  that  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
in  waiting  all  suffered  from  the  spleen  when  she 
withdrew. 

She  bought  at  this  time  the  fiercest  but  most  beau- 
tiful beast  of  a  horse  she  had  ever  mounted.  The 
creature  was  so  superbly  handsome,  but  apparently 
so  unconquerable  and  so  savage,  that  her  grooms  were 
afraid  to  approach  it,  and  indeed  it  could  not  be  sad- 
dled and  bitted  unless  she  herself  stood  near.  Even 
the  horse-dealer,  rogue  though  he  was,  had  sold  it  to 
her  with  some  approach  to  a  qualm  of  conscience,  hav- 
ing confessed  to  her  that  it  had  killed  two  grooms 
and  been  sentenced  to  be  $hot  by  its  first  owner,  and 
was  still  living  only  because  its  great  beauty  had  led 
him  to  hesitate  for  a  few  days.  It  was  by  chance  that 
during  these  few  days  Lady  Dunstanwolde  heard  of 
it,  and  going  to  see  it,  desired  and  bought  it  at  once. 


190          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

"It  is  the  very  beast  I  want,"  she  said,  with  a  gleam 
in  her  eye.  "It  will  please  me  to  teach  it  that  there 
is  one  stronger  than  itself." 

She  had  much  use  for  her  loaded  riding-whip,  and 
indeed,  not  finding  it  heavy  enough,  ordered  one  made 
which  was  heavier.  When  she  rode  the  beast  in  Hyde 
Park,  her  first  battles  with  him  were  the  town  talk, 
and  there  were  those  who  bribed  her  footmen  to  in- 
form them  beforehand  when  my  lady  was  to  take  out 
Devil,  that  they  might  know  in  time  to  be  in  the  Park 
to  see  her.  Fops  and  hunting-men  laid  wagers  as  to 
whether  her  Ladyship  would  kill  the  horse  or  be  killed 
by  him,  and  followed  her  training  of  the  creature  with 
an  excitement  and  delight  quite  wild. 

"Well  may  the  beast's  name  be  Devil/'  said  more 
than  one  looker-on,  "for  he  is  not  so  much  horse  as 
demon.  And  when  he  plunges  and  rears  and  shows 
his  teeth,  there  is  a  look  in  his  eye  which  flames  like 
her  own,  and  'tis  as  if  a  male  and  female  demon  fought 
together,  for  surely  such  a  woman  never  lived  before. 
She  will  not  let  him  conquer  her,  God  knows,  and  it 
would  seem  that  he  was  swearing  in  horse  fashion  that 
she  should  not  conquer  him. 

When  he  was  first  bought  and  brought  home,  Mis- 
tress Anne  turned  ashy  at  the  sight  of  him,  and  in 
her  heart  of  hearts  grieved  bitterly  that  it  had  so 
fallen  out  that  his  Grace  of  Osmonde  had  been  called 
away  from  town  by  high  and  important  matters,  for 
she  knew  full  well  that  if  he  had  been  in  the  neigh- 
borhood he  would  have  said  some  discreet  and  tender 


A    LADY  OF   QUALITY          191 

word  of  warning  to  which  her  Ladyship  would  have 
listened,  though  she  would  have  treated  with  disdain 
the  caution  of  any  other  man  or  woman.  When  she 
herself  ventured  to  speak,  Clorinda  looked  only  stern. 

"I  have  ridden  only  ill-tempered  beasts  all  my  life, 
and  that  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  subduing  them," 
she  said.  "I  have  no  liking  for  a  horse  like  a  bell- 
wether— and  if  this  one  should  break  my  neck,  I  need 
battle  with  neither  men  nor  horses  again — and  I  shall 
die  at  the  high  tide  of  life  and  power — and  those  who 
thl-nk  of  me  afterward  will  only  remember  that  they 
loved  £ie." 

But  the  horse  did  not  kill  her,  nor  she  it.  Day  after 
day  she  stood  by  while  it  was  taken  from  its  stall, 
many  a  time  dealing  with  it  herself,  because  no  groom 
dare  approach,  and  then  she  would  ride  it  forth,  and 
in  Hyde  Park  force  it  to  obey  her,  the  wondrous 
strength  of  her  will,  her  wrist  of  steel,  and  the  fierce, 
pitiless  punishment  she  inflicted  actually  daunting  the 
devilish  creature's  courage.  She  would  ride  from  the 
encounter,  through  two  lines  of  people  who  had  been 
watching  her,  and  some  of  them  found  themselves  fol- 
lowing after  her  even  to  the  Park  Gate — almost  awed 
as  they  looked  at  her,  sitting  erect  and  splendid  on 
the  fretted,  anguished  beast,  whose  shining  skin  was 
covered  with  lather,  whose  mouth  tossed  blood-flecked 
foam,  and  whose  great  eye  was  so  strangely  like  her 
own,  but  that  hers  glowed  with  the  light  of  triumph 
and  his  burned  with  the  agonized  protest  of  the  van- 
quished. At  such  times  there  was  somewhat  of  fear 


192          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

in  the  glances  that  followed  her  beauty,  which  al- 
most seemed  to  blaze — her  color  was  so  rich,  the 
curve  of  her  red  mouth  so  imperial,  the  poise  of  her 
head,  with  its  loosening  coils  of  velvet  black  hair, 
so  high. 

"It  is  good  for  me  that  I  do  this,"  she  said  to  Anne, 
with  a  short  laugh,  one  day.  "I  was  growing  too  soft 
— and  I  have  need  now  for  all  my  power.  To  fight 
with  the  demon  in  this  beast  rouses  all  in  me  that  I 
have  held  in  check  since  I  became  my  poor  Lord's  wife. 
That  the  creature  should  have  set  his  will  against-,  all 
others,  and  should  resist  me  with  such  strength  and 
devilishness,  rouses  in  me  the  passion  of  the  days  when 
I  cursed  and  raved  and  struck  at  those  who  angered 
me.  'Tis  fury  that  possesses  me,  and  I  could  curse 
and  shriek  at  him  as  I  flog  him,  if  'twould  be  seemly. 
As  it  would  not  be  so,  I  shut  my  teeth  hard  and  shriek 
and  curse  within  them  and  none  can  hear." 

Among  those  who  made  it  their  custom  to  miss  no 
day  when  she  went  forth  on  Devil,  that  they  might 
stand  near  and  behold  her,  there  was  one  man  ever 
present,  and  'twas  Sir  John  Oxon.  He  would  stand 
as  near  as  might  be  and  watch  the  battle,  a  stealthy 
fire  in  his  eye,  and  a  look  as  if  the  outcome  of  the 
fray  had  deadly  meaning  to  him.  He  would  gnaw  his 
lips  until  at  times  the  blood  started;  his  face  would 
by  turns  flush  scarlet  and  turn  deadly  pale,  he  would 
move  suddenly  and  restlessly  and  break  forth  under 
breath  into  oaths  of  exclamation.  One  day  a  man 
close  by  him  saw  him  suddenly  lay  his  hand  upon  his 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          193 

sword,  and  having  so  done  still  keep  it  there,  though 
'twas  plain  he  quickly  remembered  where  he  was. 

As  for  the  horse's  rider,  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde, 
whose  way  it  had  been  to  avoid  this  man  and  to  thrust 
him  from  her  path  by  whatsoever  adroit  means  she 
could  use,  on  these  occasions  made  no  effort  to  evade 
him  and  his  glances — in  sooth,  he  knew,  though  none 
other  did  so,  that  when  she  fought  with  her  horse  she 
did  it  with  a  fierce  joy  in  that  he  beheld  her.  'Twas 
as  though  the  battle  was  between  themselves — and 
knowing  this  in  the  depths  of  such  soul  as  he  pos- 
sessed, there  were  times  when  the  man  would  have 
exulted  to  see  the  brute  rise  and  fall  upon  her,  crush- 
ing the  life  out  of  her;  or  dash  her  to  the  earth  and 
set  his  hoof  upon  her  dazzling,  upturned  face.  Her 
scorn  and  deadly  defiance  of  him,  her  beauty  and  mad- 
dening charm  which  seemed  but  to  increase  with  every 
hour  that  flew  by,  had  roused  his  love  to  fury.  De- 
spite his  youth  he  was  a  villain  as  he  had  ever  been; 
even  in  his  first  freshness  there  had  been  older  men 
— and  hardened  ones — who  had  wondered  at  the  sel- 
fish mercilessness  and  blackness  of  the  heart  that  was 
but  that  of  a  boy.  They  had  said  among  themselves 
that  at  his  years  they  had  never  known  a  creature 
who  could  be  so  gaily  a  dastard,  one  who  could  plan 
with  such  light  remorselessness,  and  using  all  the  gifts 
given  him  by  nature  solely  for  his  own  ends,  would 
take  so  much  and  give  so  little.  In  truth,  as  time  had 
gone  on,  men  who  had  been  his  companions  and  had 
indeed  small  consciences  to  boast  of,  had  begun  to 
9  VOL.  2 


194          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

draw  off  a  little  from  him  and  frequent  his  company 
less.  He  chose  to  tell  himself  that  this  was  because 
he  had  squandered  his  fortune  and  was  less  good 
company,  being  pursued  by  creditors  and  haunted  by 
debts;  but  though  there  was  somewhat  in  this,  per- 
chance 'twas  not  the  entire  truth. 

"By  God !"  said  one  over  his  cups,  "there  are  things 
even  a  rakehell  fellow  like  me  can  not  do — but  he 
does  them  and  seems  not  to  know  that  they  are  to  his 
discredit." 

There  had  been  a  time  when  without  this  woman's 
beauty  he  might  have  lived — indeed  he  had  left  it  of 
his  own  free,  vicious  will;  but  in  these  days  when  his 
fortunes  had  changed  and  she  represented  all  that  he 
stood  most  desperately  in  need  of,  her  beauty  drove 
him  mad. 

In  his  haunting  of  her,  as  he  followed  her  from 
place  to  place,  his  passion  grew  day  by  day,  and 
all  the  more  gained  strength  and  fierceness  because 
it  was  so  mixed  with  hate.  He  tossed  upon  his  bed 
at  night  and  cursed  her,  he  remembered  the  wild  past, 
and  the  memory  all  but  drove  him  to  delirium.  He 
knew  of  what  stern  stuff  she  was  made,  and  that  even 
if  her  love  had  died,  she  would  have  held  to.  her  com- 
pact like  grim  death,  even  while  loathing  him.  And 
he  had  cast  all  this  aside  in  one  mad  moment  of  boy- 
ish cupidity  and  folly,  and  now  that  she  was  so  radi- 
ant and  entrancing  a  thing,  and  wealth  and  splendor 
and  rank  and  luxury  lay  in  the  hollow  of  her  marble 
hand,  she  fixed  her  beauteous  devil's  eyes  upon  him 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          195 

with  a  scorn  in  their  black  depths  which  seemed  to 
burn  like  fires  of  hell. 

The  great  brute  who  dashed  and  plunged  and 
pranced  beneath  her  seemed  to  have  sworn  to  con- 
quer her  as  he  had  sworn  himself,  but  let  him  plunge 
and  kick  as  he  would,  there  was  no  quailing  in  her 
eyes;  she  sat  like  a  creature  who  was  superhuman, 
and  her  hand  was  iron,  her  wrist  was  steel.  She  held 
him  that  he  could  not  do  his  worst  without  such  pain 
as  would  drive  him  mad,  she  lashed  him  and  rained 
on  him  such  blows  as  almost  made  him  blind.  Once 
at  the  very  worst,  Devil  dancing  near  him,  she  looked 
down  from  his  back  into  John  Oxon's  face,  and  he 
cursed  aloud,  her  eyes  so  told  him  his  own  story  and 
hers.  In  those  days  their  souls  met  in  such  combats 
as  it  seemed  must  end  in  murder  itself. 

"You  will  not  conquer  him,"  he  said  to  her  one 
morning,  forcing  himself  near  enough  to  speak. 

"I  will  unless  he  kills  me,"  she  answered,  "and  that 
methinks  he  will  find  it  hard  to  do." 

"He  will  kill  you,"  he  said;  "I  would  were  I  in  his 
four  shoes." 

"You  would  if  you  could,"  were  her  words;  "but 
you  could  not  with  his  bit  in  your  mouth  and  my  hand 
on  the  snaffle.  And  if  he  killed  me  'twould  be  he,  not 
I,  was  beaten ;  since  he  could  only  kill  what  any  bloody 
villain  could  with  any  knife.  He  is  a  brute  beast  and 
I  am  that  which  was  given  dominion  over  such.  Look 
on  till  I  have  done  with  him." 

And  thus,  with  other  beholders,  though  in  a  differ- 


196          A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

ent  mood  from  theirs,  he  did,  until  a  day  when  even 
the  most  skeptical  saw  that  the  brute  came  to  the  fray 
with  less  of  courage,  as  if  there  had  at  last  come  into 
his  brain  the  dawning  of  a  fear  of  that  which  rid  him 
and  which  all  his  madness  could  not  displace  from  its 
throne  upon  his  back. 

"By  God!"  cried  more  than  one  of  the  bystanders, 
seeing  this  despite  the  animal's  fury,  "the  beast  gives 
way!  He  gives  way!  She  has  him!"  And  John 
Oxon,  shutting  his  teeth,  cut  short  an  oath  and  turned 
pale  as  death. 

From  that  moment  her  victory  was  a  thing  assured. 
The  duel  of  strength  became  less  desperate,  and  hav- 
ing once  begun  to  learn  his  lesson  the  brute  was  made 
to  learn  it  well.  His  bearing  was  a  thing  superb  to 
behold,  once  taught  obedience  there  would  scarce  be  ai 
horse  like  him  in  the  whole  of  England.  And  day; 
by  day  this  he  learned  from  her,  and  being  mastered, 
was  put  through  his  paces  and  led  to  answer  to  the 
rein  so  that  he  trotted,  cantered,  galloped,  and  leaped 
as  a  bird  flies.  Then,  as  the  town  had  come  to  see 
him  fight  for  freedom,  it  came  to  see  him  adorn  the 
victory  of  the  being  who  had  conquered  him,  and  over 
their  dishes  of  tea  in  the  afternoon  beaux  and  beau- 
ties of  fashion  gossiped  of  the  interesting  and  exciting 
event,  and  there  were  vaporish  ladies  who  vowed  they 
could  not  have  beaten  a  brute  so,  and  that  surely  my 
Lady  Dunstanwolde  must  have  looked  hot  and  blowzy 
while  she  did  it,  and  have  had  the  air  of  a  great  rough 
man ;  and  there  were  some  pretty  tiffs  and  even  quar- 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          197 

rels  when  the  men  swore  that  never  had  she  looked 
so  magnificent  a  beauty  and  so  inflamed  the  hearts  of 
all  beholding  her. 

On  the  first  day  after  her  Ladyship's  last  battle  with 
her  horse,  the  one  which  ended  in  such  victory  to  her 
that  she  rode  him  home  hard  through  the  streets  with- 
out an  outbreak,  he  white  with  lather  and  marked  with 
stripes,  but  his  large  eye  holding  in  its  velvet  a  look 
which  seemed  almost  like  a  human  thought — on  the 
day  after  there  occurred  a  thing  which  gave  the  town 
new  matter  to  talk  of. 

His  Grace  of  Osmonde  had  been  in  France,  called 
there  by  business  of  the  state,  and  during  his  absence 
the  gossip  concerning  the  horse  Devil  had  taken  the 
place  of  that  which  had  before  touched  on  himself. 
'Twas  not  announced  that  he  was  to  return  to  Eng- 
land, and  indeed,  there  were  those  who,  speaking  with 
authority,  said  that  for  two  weeks  at  least  his  affairs 
abroad  would  not  be  brought  to  a  'close ;  and  yet,  on 
this  morning,  as  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde  rode  'neath 
the  trees,  holding  Devil  well  in  hand,  and  watching 
him  with  eagle  keenness  of  eye,  many  looking  on  in 
wait  for  the  moment  when  the  brute  might  break  forth 
suddenly  again,  a  horseman  was  seen  approaching  at 
a  pace  so  rapid  that  'twas  on  the  verge  of  a  gal- 
lop, and  the  first  man  who  beheld  him  looked  amazed, 
and  lifted  his  hat,  and  the  next,  seeing  him,  spoke  to 
another  who  bowed  with  him,  and  all  along  the  line 
of  loungers  hats  were  removed  and  people  wore  the 
air  of  seeing  a  man  unexpectedly ;  and  hearing  a  name 


198          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

spoken  in  exclamation  by  his  side,  Sir  John  Oxon 
looked  round  and  beheld  ride  by  my  Lord  Duke  of 
Osmonde. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly,  and  all  the  Park 
was  gay  with  bright  warmth  and  greenness  of  turf 
and  trees.  Clorinda  felt  the  glow  of  the  summer 
morning  permeate  her  being;  she  kept  her  watch  upon 
her  beast,  but  he  was  going  well,  and  in  her  soul  she 
knew  that  he  was  beaten,  and  that  her  victory  had 
been  beheld  by  the  one  man  who  knew  that  it  meant 
to  her  that  which  it  seemed  to  mean  also  to  himself. 
And,  filled  with  this  thought  and  the  joy  of  it,  she 
rode  beneath  the  trees,  and  so  was  riding  with  splen- 
did spirit,  when  she  heard  a  horse  behind  her,  and 
looked  up  as  it  drew  near,  and  the  rich  crimson  swept 
over  her  in  a  sweet  flood,  so  that  it  seemed  to  her 
she  thought  she  felt  it  warm  on  her  very  shoulders, 
'neath  her  habit,  for  'twas  Osmonde's  self  who  had 
followed  and  reached  her,  and  uncovered,  keeping 
pace  by  her  side. 

Ah,  what  a  face  he  had,  and  how  his  eyes  burned 
as  they  rested  on  her.  It  was  such  a  look  she  met  that 
for  a  moment  she  could  not  find  speech,  and  he  him- 
self spoke  as  a  man  who,  through  some  deep  emotion, 
has  almost  lost  his  breath. 

"My  Lady  Dunstanwolde,"  he  began,  and  then,  with 
a  sudden  passion,  "Clorinda,  my  beloved !"  The  time 
had  come  when  he  could  not  keep  silence,  and  with 
great  leapings  of  her  heart  she  knew.  Yet  not  one 
word  said  she,  for  she  could  not,  but  her  beauty, 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          199 

glowing  and  quivering  under  his  eyes'  great  fire,  an- 
swered enough. 

"Were  it  not  that  I  fear  for  your  sake  the  beast  you 
ride,"  he  said,  "I  would  lay  my  hand  upon  his  bridle, 
that  I  might  crush  your  hand  in  mine.  At  post  haste 
I  have  come  from  France,  hearing  this  thing — that 
you  endangered  every  day  that  which  I  love  so  madly. 
My  God !  beloved,  cruel,  cruel  woman — sure  you  must 
know!" 

She  answered  with  a  breathless,  wild  surrender. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  gasped,  "I  know." 

"And  yet  you  braved  this  danger,  knowing  that  you 
might  leave  me  a  widowed  man  for  life." 

"But,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  whose  melting  radi- 
ance seemed  akin  to  tears — "but  see  how  I  have  mas- 
tered him — and  all  is  passed." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said;  "as  you  have  conquered  all — 
as  you  have  conquered  me — and  did  from  the  first 
hour.  But  God  forbid  that  you  should  make  me  suffer 
so  again." 

"Your  Grace,"  she  said,  faltering,  "I— I  will  not!" 

"Forgive  me  for  the  tempest  of  my  passion,"  he 
said.  "  Twas  not  thus  I  had  thought  to  come  to  make 
my  suit.  'Tis  scarcely  fitting  that  it  should  be  so — 
but  I  was  almost  mad  when  I  first  heard  this  rumor, 
knowing  my  duty  would  not  loose  me  to  come  to  you 
at  once — and  knowing  you  so  well — that  only  if  your 
heart  had  melted  to  the  one  who  besought  you,  would 
you  give  up." 

"I — give  up!"  she  answered;  "I  give  up!" 


200         A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

"I  worship  you !"  he  said ;  "I  worship  you !"  And 
their  meeting  eyes  were  drowned  in  each  other's  ten- 
derness. 

They  galloped  side  by  side,  and  the  watchers  looked 
on,  exchanging  words  and  glances,  seeing  in  her 
beauteous,  glowing  face,  in  his  joyous  one,  the  final 
answer  to  the  question  they  had  so  often  asked  each 
other.  'Twas  his  Grace  of  Osmonde  who  was  the 
happy  man,  he  and  no  other.  That  was  a  thing  plain 
indeed  to  be  seen,  for  they  were  too  high  above  the 
common  world  to  feel  that  they  must  play  the  paltry 
part  of  outward  trifling  to  deceive  it;  and  as  the  sun 
pierces  through  clouds  and  is  stronger  than  they,  so 
their  love  shone  like  the  light  of  day  itself  through 
poor  conventions.  They  did  not  know  the  people 
gazed  and  whispered,  and  if  they  had  known  it  the 
thing  would  have  counted  for  naught  with  them. 

"See !"  said  my  lady,  patting  her  Devil's  neck ;  "see, 
he  knows  that  you  have  come,  and  frets  no  more." 

They  rode  home  together,  the  great  beauty  and  the 
great  Duke,  and  all  the  town  beheld,  and  after  they 
had  passed  him  where  he  stood,  John  Oxon  mounted 
his  own  horse  and  galloped  away,  white-lipped  and 
with  mad  eyes. 

"Let  me  escort  you  home,"  the  Duke  had  said,  "that 
I  may  kneel  to  you  there,  and  pour  forth  my  heart 
as  I  have  so  dreamed  of  doing.  To-morrow  I  must 
go  back  to  France,  because  I  left  my  errand  incomplete. 
I  stole  from  duty  the  time  to  come  to  you,  and  I  must 
return  as  quickly  as  I  came." 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          201 

So  he  took  her  home,  and  as  they  entered  the  wide 
hall  together,  side  by  side,  the  attendant  lackeys  bowed 
to  the  ground  in  deep  welcoming  obeisance,  knowing 
it  was  their  future  lord  and  master  they  received. 

Together  they  went  to  her  own  salon,  a  beautiful 
great  room  hung  with  rare  pictures,  warm  with  floods 
of  the  bright  summer  sunshine  and  perfumed  with 
bowls  of  summer  flowers,  and  as  the  lackey  departed, 
bowing,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him,  they  turned 
and  were  enfolded  close  in  each  other's  arms,  and 
stood  so,  with  their  hearts  beating  as,  surely  it  seemed 
to  them,  human  hearts  had  never  beat  before. 

"Ah!  my  dear  love,  my  heavenly  love!"  he  cried. 
"It  has  been  so  long.  I  have  lived  in  prison  and  in 
fetters — and  it  has  been  so  long!" 

Even  as  my  Lord  Dunstanwolde  had  found  cause 
to  wonder  at  her  gentle  ways,  so  was  this  man  amazed 
at  her  great  sweetness,  now  that  he  might  cross  the 
threshold  of  her  heart.  She  gave  of  herself  as  an 
empress  might  give  of  her  store  of  imperial  jewels, 
with  sumptuous  lavishness,  knowing  that  the  store 
could  not  fail.  In  truth,  it  seemed  that  it  must  be  a 
dream,  that  she  so  stood  before  him  in  all  her  great, 
rich  loveliness,  leaning  against  his  heaving  breast,  her 
arms  as  tender  as  his  own,  her  regal  head  thrown 
backward  that  they  might  gaze  into  the  depths  of  each 
other's  eyes. 

"From  that  first  hour  that  I  looked  up  at  you,"  she 
said,  "I  knew  you  were  my  lord — my  lord!  And  a 
fierce  pain  stabbed  my  heart,  knowing  that  you  had 


202          A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

come  too  late  by  but  one  hour;  for  had  it  not  been 
that  Dunstanwolde  had  led  me  to  you,  I  knew — ah! 
how  well  I  knew — that  our  hearts  would  have  beaten 
together,  not  as  two  hearts,  but  as  one." 

"As  they  do  now,"  he  cried. 

"As  they  do  now,"  she  answered ;  "as  they  do  now." 

"And  from  the  moment  that  your  rose  fell  at  my 
feet  and  I  raised  it  in  my  hand,"  he  said,  "I  knew  I 
held  some  rapture  which  was  my  own.  And  when 
you  stood  before  me  at  Dunstanwolde's  side  and  our 
eyes  met,  I  could  not  understand.  Nay,  I  could  scarce 
believe  that  it  had  been  taken  from  me." 

There,  in  her  arms  among  the  flowers  and  in  the 
sweetness  of  the  sun  he  lived  again  the  past,  telling 
her  of  the  days  when,  knowing  his  danger,  he  had 
held  himself  aloof,  declining  to  come  to  her  lord's 
house  with  the  familiarity  of  a  kinsman,  because  the 
pang  of  seeing  her  often  was  too  great  to  bear;  and 
relating  to  her  also  the  story  of  the  hours  when  he  had 
watched  her  and  she  had  not  known  his  nearness  or 
guessed  his  pain,  when  she  had  passed  in  her  equipage, 
not  seeing  him,  or  giving  him  but  a  gracious  smile. 
He  had  walked  outside  her  window  at  midnight,  some- 
times, too,  coming  because  he  was  a  desperate  man, 
and  could  not  sleep,  and  returning  homeward,  had 
found  no  rest,  but  only  increase  of  anguish. 

"Sometimes,"  he  said,  "I  dared  not  look  into  your 
eyes,  fearing  my  own  would  betray  me,  but  now  I  can 
gaze  into  your  soul  itself,  for  the  midnight  is  over — 
and  joy  cometh  with  the  morning." 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY          203 

As  he  had  spoken,  he  had  caressed  softly  with  his 
hand  her  cheek,  and  her  crown  of  hair,  and  such  was 
his  great  gentleness  that  'twas  as  if  he  touched  lov- 
ingly a  child,  for  into  her  face  there  had  come  that 
look  which  it  would  seem  that  in  the  arms  of  the  man 
she  loves  every  true  woman  wears — a  look  which  is 
somehow  like  a  child's  in  its  trusting,  sweet,  sur- 
render, and  appeal,  whatsover  may  be  her  stateliness 
and  the  splendor  of  her  beauty. 

Yet  as  he  touched  her  cheek  so  and  her  eyes  so 
dwelt  on  him,  suddenly  her  head  fell  heavily  upon  his 
breast,  hiding  her  face  even  while  her  enwreathing 
arms  held  more  closely. 

"Ah,  those  mad  days  before !"  she  cried ;  "ah,  those 
mad,  mad  days  before!" 

"Nay,  they  are  long  passed,  sweet,"  he  said,  in  his 
deep  noble  voice,  thinking  that  she  spoke  of  the  wild- 
ness  of  her  girlish  years — "and  all  our  days  of  joy 
are  yet  to  come." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  cried,  clinging  closer,  yet  with  shud- 
dering. "They  were  before — the  joy — the  joy  is  all 
to  come." 


CHAPTER    XV 

IN  WHICH  SIR  JOHN  OXON  FINDS  AGAIN  A  TROPHY 
HE  HAD  LOST 

His  Grace  of  Osmonde  went  back  to  France  to  com- 
plete his  business,  and  all  the  world  knew  that  when 
he  returned  to  England  'twould  be  to  make  his  prep- 
arations for  his  marriage  with  my  Lady  Dunstan- 
wolde.  It  was  a  marriage  not  long  to  be  postponed, 
and  her  Ladyship  herself  was  known  already  to  be 
engaged  with  lacemen,  linen-drapers,  toyshop-women, 
and  goldsmiths.  Mercers  waited  upon  her  at  her 
house,  accompanied  by  their  attendants,  bearing  bur- 
dens of  brocades  and  silks  and  splendid  stuffs  of  all 
sorts ;  her  chariot  was  to  be  seen  standing  before  their 
shops,  and  the  interest  in  her  purchases  was  so  great 
that  fashionable  beauties  would  contrive  to  visit  the 
counters  at  the  same  hours  as  herself,  so  that  they 
might  catch  glimpses  of  what  she  chose.  In  her  own 
great  house  all  was  repressed  excitement;  her  women 
were  enraptured  at  being  allowed  the  mere  handling 
and  laying  away  of  the  glories  of  her  wardrobe;  the 
lackeys  held  themselves  with  greater  state,  knowing 
that  they  were  soon  to  be  a  duke's  servants^  her  little 
204 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          205 

black  Nero  strutted  about,  his  turban  set  upon  his  pate 
with  a  majestic  cock,  and  disdained  to  enter  into  bat- 
tle with  such  pages  of  his  own  color  as  wore  only  sil- 
ver collars,  he  feeling  assured  that  his  own  would  soon 
be  of  gold. 

The  world  of  fashion  said  when  her  Ladyship's 
equipage  drove  by  that  her  beauty  was  like  that  of  the 
god  of  day  at  morning,  and  that  'twas  plain  that  no 
man  or  woman  had  ever  beheld  her  as  his  Grace  of 
Osmonde  would. 

"She  loves  at  last,"  a  wit  said;  "until  the  time  that 
such  a  woman  loves,  however  great  her  splendor,  she 
is  as  the  sun  behind  a  cloud." 

"And  now  this  one  hath  come  forth  and  shines  so 
that  she  warms  us  in  mere  passing,"  said  another. 
"What  eyes,  and  what  a  mouth — with  that  strange 
smile  upon  it.  Whoever  saw  such  before  ?  And  when 
she  came  to  town  with  my  Lord  Dunstanwolde,  who, 
beholding  her,  would  have  believed  that  she  could 
wear  such  a  look?" 

In  sooth  there  was  that  in  her  face  and  in  her  voice 
when  she  spoke  which  almost  made  Anne  weep 
through  its  strange  sweetness  and  radiance.  'Twas 
as  if  the  flood  of  her  joy  had  swept  away  all  hardness 
and  disdain.  Her  eyes,  which  had  seemed  to  mock  at 
all  they  had  rested  on,  mocked  no  more,  but  ever 
seemed  to  smile  at  some  dear  inward  thought. 

One  night,  when  she  went  forth  to  a  Court  ball, 
being  all  attired  in  brocade  of  white  and  silver,  and 
glittering  with  the  Dunstanwolde  diamonds  which 


206         A  LADY   OF  QUALITY 

starred  her  as  with  great  sparkling  dewdrops,  and 
yet  had  not  the  radiance  of  her  eyes  and  smile,  she 
was  so  purely  wonderful  a  vision,  that  Anne,  who  had 
been  watching  her  through  all  the  time  when  she  had 
been  under  the  hands  of  her  tire-woman  and  behold- 
ing her  now  so  dazzling  and  white  a  shining  creature, 
fell  upon  her  knees  to  kiss  her  hand  almost  as  one  who 
worships. 

"Oh,  sister,"  she  said,  "you  look  like  a  spirit.  It 
is  as  if  with  the  earth  you  had  naught  to  do — as  if 
your  eyes  saw  Heaven  itself  and  Him  who  reigns 
there." 

The  lovely  orbs  of  Clorinda  shone  more  still  like  the 
great  star  of  morning. 

"Sister  Anne,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  her 
white  breast,  "at  times  I  think  that  I  must  almost  be 
a  spirit,  I  feel  such  heavenly  joy.  It  is  as  if  He  whom 
you  believe  in,  and  who  can  forgive  and  wipe  out  sins, 
has  forgiven  me  and  has  granted  it  to  me,  that  I  may 
begin  my  poor  life  again.  Ah!  I  will  make  it  better, 
I  will  try  to  make  it  as  near  an  angel's  life  as  a  woman 
can,  and  I  will  do  no  wrong,  but  only  good,  and  I  will 
believe  and  pray  every  day  upon  my  knees — and  all  my 
prayers  will  be  that  I  may  so  live  that  my  dear  lord — 
my  Gerald — could  forgive  me  all  that  I  have  ever 
done — and  seeing  my  soul  would  know  me  worthy  of 
him.  Oh !  we  are  strange  things,  we  human  creatures, 
Anne,"  with  a  tremulous  smile;  "we  do  not  believe 
until  we  want  a  thing  and  feel  that  we  shall  die  if  'tis 
not  granted  to  us,  and  then  we  kneel  and  kneel  and 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          207 

believe,  because  we  must  have  somewhat  to  ask  help 
from." 

"But  all  help  has  been  given  to  you,"  poor  tender 
Anne  said,  kissing  her  hand  again,  "and  I  will  pray, 
I  will  pray — " 

"Ay,  pray,  Anne,  pray  with  all  thy  soul,"  Clorinda 
answered.  "I  need  thy  praying — and  thou  didst  be- 
lieve always,  and  have  asked  so  little  that  has  been 
given  thee." 

"Thou  wast  given  me,  sister,"  said  Anne.  "Thou 
hast  given  me  a  home  and  kindness  such  as  I  never 
dared  to  hope ;  thou  hast  been  like  a  great  star  to  me ; 
I  have  had  none  other,  and  I  thank  Heaven  on  my 
knees  each  night  for  the  brightness  my  star  has  shed 
on  me." 

"Poor  Anne — dear  Anne!"  Clorinda  said,  laying 
her  arms  about  her  and  kissing  her.  "Pray  for  thy 
star,  good,  tender  Anne,  that  its  light  may  not  be 
quenched."  Then  with  a  sudden  movement  her  hand 
was  pressed  upon  her  bosom  again.  "Ah,  Anne,"  she 
cried,  and  in  the  music  of  her  voice  agony  itself  was 
ringing — "Anne,  there  is  but  one  thing  on  this  earth 
God  rules  over,  but  one  thing  that  belongs — belongs 
to  me.  And  'tis  Gerald  Mertoun — and  he  is  mine  and 
'shall  not  be  taken  from  me,  for  he  is  a  part  of  me  and 
I  a  part  of  him !" 

"He  will  not  be,"  said  Anne.    "He  will  not." 

"He  can  not,"  Clorinda  answered.  "He  shall  not. 
'Twould  not  be  human." 

She  drew  a  long  breath  and  was  calm  again. 


208          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

"Did  it  reach  your  ears,"  she  said,  reclasping  a  band 
of  jewels  on  her  arm,  "that  Sir  John  Oxon  had  been 
offered  a  place  in  a  foreign  court,  and  that  'twas  said 
he  would  soon  leave  England  ?" 

"I  heard  some  rumor  of  it,"  Anne  answered,  her 
emotion  getting  the  better  of  her  usual  discreet  speech. 
"God  grant  it  may  be  true !" 

"Ay!"  said  Clorinda,  "would  God  that  he  were 
gone!" 

But  that  he  was  not,  for  when  she  entered  the  assem- 
bly that  night  he  was  standing  near  the  door  as  though 
he  lay  in  wait  for  her,  and  his  eyes  met  hers  with  a 
leaping  gleam  which  was  a  thing  of  such  exultation 
that  to  encounter  it  was  like  having  a  knife  thrust  deep 
into  her  side  and  through  and  through  it;  for  she 
knew  full  well  that  he  could  not  wear  such  a  look 
unless  he  had  some  strength  of  which  she  knew  not. 

This  gleam  was  in  his  eyes  each  time  she  found  her- 
self drawn  to  them,  and  it  seemed  as  though  she  could 
look  nowhere  without  encountering  his  gaze.  He  fol- 
lowed her  from  room  to  room,  placing  himself  where 
she  could  not  lift  her  eyes  without  beholding  him; 
when  she  walked  a  minute  with  a  royal  duke,  he  stood 
and  watched  her  with  such  a  look  in  his  face  as  drew 
all  eyes  toward  him. 

;<  Tis  as  if  he  threatens  her,"  one  said.  "He  has 
gone  mad  with  disappointed  love." 

But  'twas  not  love  that  was  in  his  look,  but  the 
madness  of  long-thwarted  passion  mixed  with  hate 
and  mockery,  and  this  she  saw  and  girded  her  soul 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY         209 

with  all  its  strength,  knowing  that  she  had  a  fiercer 
beast  to  deal  with  and  a  more  vicious  and  dangerous 
one  than  her  horse  Devil.  That  he  kept  at  first  at  a 
distance  from  her,  and  but  looked  on  with  this  secret 
exultant  glow  in  his  bad,  beauteous  eyes,  told  her  that 
at  last  he  felt  he  held  some  power  in  his  hands  against 
which  all  her  defiance  would  be  as  naught.  Till  this 
hour,  though  she  had  suffered,  and  when  alone  had 
writhed  in  agony  of  grief  and  bitter  shame,  in  his 
presence  she  had  never  flinched.  Her  strength  she 
knew  was  greater  than  his,  but  his  baseness  was  his 
weapon,  and  the  depths  of  that  baseness  she  knew  she 
had  never  reached. 

At  midnight,  having  just  made  obeisance  before 
royalty  retiring,  she  felt  that  at  length  he  had  drawn 
near  and  was  standing  at  her  side. 

"To-night,"  he  said,  in  the  low  undertone  it  was  his 
way  to  keep  for  such  occasions,  knowing  how  he  could 
pierce  her  ear — "to-night  you  are  Juno's  self — a  very 
Queen  of  Heaven!" 

She  made  no  answer. 

"And  I  have  stood  and  watched  you  moving  among 
all  lesser  goddesses  as  the  moon  sails  among  the  stars, 
and  I  have  smiled  in  thinking  of  what  these  lesser 
deities  would  say  if  they  had  known  what  I  bear  in 
my  breast  to-night." 

She  did  not  even  make  a  movement,  in  truth  she 
felt  that  at  his  next  words  she  might  change  to  stone. 

"I  have  found  it,"  he  said,  "I  have  it  here— the  lost 
treasure — the  tress  of  hair  like  a  raven's  wing  and  six 


210          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

feet  long.  Is  there  another  woman  in  England  who 
could  give  a  man  a  lock  like  it?" 

She  felt  then  that  she  had  in  sooth  changed  to 
stone;  her  heart  hung  without  moving  in  her  breast, 
her  eyes  felt  great  and  hollow  and  staring  as  she  lifted 
them  to  him. 

"I  knew  not,"  she  said  slowly  and  with  bated  breath, 
for  the  awfulness  of  the  moment  had  even  made  her 
body  weak  as  she  had  never  known  it  feel  before — "I 
knew  not  truly  that  hell  made  things  like  you." 

Whereupon  he  made  a  movement  forward,  and  the 
crowd  about  surged  nearer  with  hasty  exclamations, 
for  the  strange  weakness  of  Jier  body  had  overpowered 
her  in  a  way  mysterious  to  her,  and  she  had  changed 
to  marble,  growing  too  heavy  of  weight  for  her  sink- 
ing limbs.  And  those  in  the  surrounding  groups  saw 
a  marvelous  thing,  the  same  being  that  my  Lady  Dun- 
stanwolde  swayed  as  she  turned,  and  falling,  lay 
stretched  as  if  dead  in  her  white  and  silver  and  flash- 
ing jewels  at  the  startled  beholders'  feet. 

She  wore  no  radiant  look  when  she  went  home  that 
night.  She  would  go  home  alone  and  unescorted  ex- 
cepting by  her  lackeys,  refusing  all  offers  of  compan- 
ionship when  once  placed  in  her  equipage.  There 
were  of  course  gentlemen  who  would  not  be  denied 
leading  her  to  her  coach;  Sir  John  Oxon  was  among 
them,  and  at  the  last  pressed  close  with-  a  manner  of 
great  ceremony,  speaking  a  final  word. 

"  Tis  useless,  your  Ladyship,"  he  murmured  as  he 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          211 

made  his  obeisance  gallantly,  and  though  the  words 
were  uttered  in  his  lowest  tone  and  with  great  soft- 
ness, they  reached  her  ear,  as  he  intended  that  they 
should.  "To-morrow  morning  I  shall  wait  upon 
you." 

Anne  had  forborne  going  to  bed,  and  waited  for  her 
return,  longing  to  see  her  spirit's  face  again  before 
she  slept,  for  this  poor  tender  creature,  being  denied 
all  woman's  loves  and  joys  by  Fate,  who  had  made 
her  as  she  was,  so  lived  in  her  sister's  beauty  and  tri- 
umphs that  'twas  as  if  in  some  far-off  way  she  shared 
them,  and  herself  experienced  through  them  the  joy 
of  being  a  woman  transcendently  beautiful  and  trans- 
cendently  beloved.  To-night  she  had  spent  her  wait- 
ing hours  in  her  closet  and  upon  her  knees,  praying 
with  all  humble  adoration  of  the  Being  she  approached. 
She  was  wont  to  pray  long  and  fervently  each  day, 
thanking  Heaven  for  the  smallest  things  and  the  most 
common,  and  imploring  continuance  of  the  mercy 
which  bestowed  them  upon  her  poor  unworthiness ; 
for  her  sister  her  prayers  were  offered  up  night  and 
morning,  and  ofttimes  in  hours  between,  and  to-night 
she  prayed  not  for  herself  at  all,  but  for  Clorinda  and 
for  his  Grace  of  Osmonde,  that  their  love  might  be 
crowned  with  happiness  and  that  no  shadow  might  in- 
tervene to  cloud  its  brightness  and  the  tender  rapture 
in  her  sister's  softened  look,  whicK  was  to  her  a  thing 
so  wonderful  that  she  thought  of  it  with  reverence  as 
a  holy  thing. 

Her  prayers  being  at  length  ended,  she  had  risen 


212          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

from  her  knees  and  sat  down,  taking  a  sacred  book 
to  read,  a  book  of  sermons  such  as  'twas  her  simple 
habit  to  pore  over  with  entire  respect  and  childlike 
faith,  and  being  in  the  midst  of  her  favorite  homily 
she  heard  the  chariot's  returning  wheels  and  left  her 
chair  surprised,  because  she  had  not  yet  begun  to  ex- 
pect the  sound. 

"  Tis  my  sister,"  she  said,  with  a  soft,  sentimental 
smile.  "Osmonde  not  being  among  the  guests,  she 
hath  had  no  pleasure  in  mingling  with  them." 

She  went  below  to  the  room  her  Ladyship  usually 
went  to  first  on  her  return  at  night  from  any  gath- 
ering, and  there  she  found  her  sitting  as  though  she 
had  dropped  there  in  the  corner  of  a  great  divan,  her 
hands  hanging  clasped  before  her  on  her  knee,  her 
head  hanging  forward  on  her  fallen  chest,  her  large 
eyes  staring  into  space. 

"Clorinda!  Clorinda!"  Anne  cried,  running  to  her 
and  kneeling  at  her  side.  "Clorinda!  God  have 
mercy!  What  is't?" 

Never  before  had  her  face  worn  such  a  look ;  'twas 
colorless,  and  so  drawn  and  fallen  in  that  'twas  indeed 
almost  as  if  her  great  beauty  was  gone ;  but  the  thing 
most  awful  to  poor  Anne  was  that  all  the  new  soft- 
ness seemed  as  if  it  had  been  stamped  out,  and  the 
fierce  hardness  had  come  back  and  was  engraven  in 
its  place,  mingled  with  a  horrible  despair. 

"An  hour  ago,"  she  said,  "I  swooned.  That  is  why 
I  look  thus.  'Tis  yet  another  sign  that  I  am  a  woman 
— a  woman!" 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          213 

"You  are  ill !  you  swooned !"  cried  Anne.  "I  must 
send  for  your  physician.  Have  you  not  ordered  that 
he  be  sent  for  yourself?  If  Osmonde  were  here  how 
perturbed  he  would  be!" 

"Osmonde!"  said  my  Lady.  "Gerald!  Is  there  a 
Gerald,  Anne?" 

"Sister!"  cried  Anne,  affrighted  by  her  strange  look; 
"oh,  sister!" 

"I  have  seen  heaven,"  Clorinda  said;  "I  have 
stood  on  the  threshold  and  seen  through  the  part- 
opened  gate — and  then  have  been  dragged  back 
to  hell." 

Anne  clung  to  her,  gazing  upward  at  her  eyes  in 
sheer  despair. 

"But  back  to  hell  I  will  not  go,"  she  went  on  say- 
ing. "Had  I  not  seen  heaven,  they  might  perhaps  have 
dragged  me,  but  now  I  will  not  go.  I  will  not,  that 
I  swear !  There  is  a  thing  which  can  not  be  endured. 
Bear  it  no  woman  should.  Even  I,  who  was  not  born 
a  woman,  but  a  wolf's  she-cub,  I  can  not.  Twas  not 
I,  'twas  fate,"  she  cried  out ;  "  'twas  not  I,  'twas  fate 
— 'twas  the  great  wheel  we  are  bound  to,  which  goes 
round  and  round,  that  we  may  be  broken  on  it.  'Twas 
not  I  who  bound  myself  there.  And  I  will  not  be 
broken  so." 

She  said  the  words  through  her  clenched  teeth  and 
with  all  the  mad  passion  of  her  most  lawless  years; 
even  at  Anne  she  looked  almost  in  the  old,  ungentle 
fashion,  as  though  half  scorning  all  weaker  than  her- 
self and  having  small  patience  with  them. 


2i4         A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

'There  will  be  a  way,"  she  said;  "there  will  be  a 
way.  I  shall  not  swoon  again." 

She  left  her  divan  and  stood  upright,  the  color  hav- 
ing come  back  to  her  face,  but  the  look  Anne  worshiped 
not  having  returned  with  it,  'twas  as  though  Mistress 
Clorinda  Wildairs  had  been  born  again. 

"To-morrow  morning  I  go  forth  on  Devil,"  she  said. 
"And  I  shall  be  abroad  if  any  visitors  come." 

What  passed  in  her  chamber  that  night  no  human 
being  knew.  Anne,  who  left  her  own  apartment  and 
crept  into  a  chamber  near  her  to  lie  and  watch,  knew 
that  she  paced  to  and  fro,  but  heard  no  other  sound, 
and  dared  not  intrude  upon  her. 

When  she  came  forth  in  the  morning  she  wore  the 
high  look  she  had  been  wont  to  wear  in  the  years  gone 
by  when  she  ruled  in  her  father's  house  and  rode  to 
the  hunt  with  a  following  of  gay,  middle-aged,  and 
elderly  rioters.  Her  eye  was  brilliant  and  her  color 
matched  it,  she  held  her  head  with  the  old  dauntless 
carriage,  and  there  was  that  in  her  voice  before  which 
her  women  quaked  and  her  lackeys  hurried  to  do  her 
bidding. 

Devil  himself  felt  this  same  thing  in  the  touch  of 
her  hand  upon  his  bridle  when  she  mounted  him  at  the 
door,  and  seemed  to  glance  askance  at  her  sideways. 

She  took  no  servant  with  her,  and  did  not  ride  to 
the  park,  but  to  the  country.  Once  on  the  high-road 
she  rode  fast  and  hard,  only  galloping  straight  before 
her  as  the  way  led,  and  having  no  intention.  Where 
she  was  going  she  knew  not,  but  why  she  rode  on 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          215 

horseback  she  knew  full  well,  it  being  because  the 
wild,  almost  fierce  motion  was  in  keeping  with  the 
tempest  in  her  soul.  Thoughts  rushed  through  her 
brain  even  as  she  rushed  th'rough  the  air  on  Devil's 
back,  and  each  leaping  after  the  other  seemed  to  tear 
more  madly. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  was  saying  to  herself. 
"What  thing  is  there  for  me  to  do?  I  am  trapped 
like  a  hunted  beast,  and  there  is  no  way  forth." 

The  blood  went  like  a  torrent  through  her  veins, 
so  that  she  seemed  to  hear  it  roaring  in  her  ears;  her 
heart  thundered  in  her  side  or  'twas, so  she  thought 
of  it,  as  it  bounded  while  she  recalled  the  past  and 
looked  upon  the  present. 

"What  else  could  have  been?"  she  groaned.  "Naught 
else — naught  else.  'Twas  a  trick — a  trick  of  fate  to 
ruin  me  for  my  punishment." 

When  she  had  gone  forth  it  had  been  with  no  hope 
in  her  breast  that  her  wit  might  devise  a  way  to  free 
herself  from  the  thing  which  so  beset  her,  for  she  had 
no  weak  fancies  that  there  dwelt  in  this  base  soul  any 
germ  of  honor  whicK  might  lead  it  to  relenting.  As 
she  had  sat  in  her  dark  room  at  night,  crouched  upon 
the  floor  and  clenching  her  Hands  as  the  mad  thoughts 
went  whirling  through'  her  brain,  she  had  stared  her 
fate  in  the  face  and  known  all  its  awfulness.  Before 
her  lay  the  rapture  of  a  great,  sweet,  honorable  pas- 
sion, a  higti  and  noble  life  lived  in  such  bliss  as  rarely 
fell  to  lot  of  woman — on  this  one  man  she  knew  that 
she  could  lavish  all  the  splendor  of  her  nature  and 


216          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

make  his  life  a  heaven  as  hers  would  be;  behind  her 
lay  the  mad,  uncared-for  years  and  one  black  mem- 
ory blighting  all  to  come,  though  'twould  have  been 
but  a  black  memory  with  no  power  to  blight  if  the 
heaven  of  love  had  not  so  opened  to  her,  and  with 
its  light  cast  all  else  into  shadow. 

"If  'twere  not  love,"  she  cried,  "if  'twere  but  am- 
bition, I  could  defy  it  to  the  last.  But  'tis  love,  love, 
love,  and  it  will  kill  me  to  forego  it." 

Even  as  she  moaned  the  words,  she  heard  hoof- 
beats  near  her,  and  a  horseman  leaped  the  hedge  and 
was  at  her  side.  She  set  her  teeth,  and  turning,  stared 
into  John  Oxon's  face. 

"Did  you  think  I  would  not  follow  you?"  he 
asked. 

"No,"  she  answered. 

"I  have  followed  you  at  a  distance  hitherto,"  he  said. 
"Now  I  shall  follow  close." 

She  did  not  speak,  but  galloped  on. 

"Think  you  you  can  outride  me?"  he  said  grimly, 
quickening  his  steed's  pace.  "I  go  with  your  Lady- 
ship to  your  own  house.  For  fear  of  scandal  you 
have  not  openly  rebuffed  me  previous  to  this  time,  for 
a  like  reason  you  will  not  order  your  lackeys  to  shut 
your  door  when  I  e*nter  it  with  you." 

My  Lady  Dunstanwolde  turned  to  gaze  at  him 
again.  The  sun  shone  on  his  bright,  falling  locks 
and  his  blue  eyes  as  she  had  seen  it  shine  in  days 
which  seemed  so  strangely  long  passed  by,  though 
they  were  not  five  years  agone. 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY         217 

"  Tis  strange,"  she  said,  with  a  measure  of  won- 
der, "to  live  and  be  so  black  a  devil." 

"Bah!  my  Lady,"  he  said,  "these  are  fine  words — 
and  fine  words  do  not  hold  between  us.  Let  us  leave 
them.  I  would  escort  you  home  and  speak  to  you  in 
private." 

There  was  that  in  his  mocking  that  was  madness 
to  her,  and  made  her  sick  and  dizzy  with  the  boiling 
of  the  blood  which  surged  to  her  brain.  The  fury  of 
passion  which  had  been  a  terror  to  all  about  her  when 
she  had  been  a  child,  was  upon  her  once  more,  and 
though  she  had  thought  herself  freed  from  its  domin- 
ion, she  knew  it  again  and  all  it  meant.  She  felt  the 
thundering  beat  in  her  side,  the  hot  flood  leaping  to 
her  cheek,  the  flame  burning  her  eyes,  themselves  as 
if  fire  was  within  them.  Had  he  been  other  than  he 
was,  her  face  itself  would  have  been  a  warning.  But 
he  pressed  her  hard.  As  he  would  have  slunk  away 
a  beaten  cur  if  she  had  held  the  victory  in  her  hands, 
so,  feeling  that  the  power  was  his,  he  exulted  over  the 
despairing  frenzy  which  was  in  her  look. 

"I  pay  back  old  scores,"  he  said.  "There  are  many 
to  pay.  When  you  crowned  yourself  with  roses  and 
set  your  foot  upon  my  face,  your  Ladyship  thought 
not  of  this!  When  you  gave  yourself  to  Dunstan- 
wolde  and  spat  at  me,  you  did  not  dream  that  there 
could  come  a  time  when  I  might  goad  as  you  did." 

She  struck  Devil  with  her  whip,  who  leaped  for- 
ward, but  Sir  John  followed  hard  behind  her.  He 
had  a  swift  horse,  too,  and  urged  him  fiercely,  so  that 
10  VOL.  2 


218         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

between  these  two  there  was  a  race  as  if  for  life  and 
death.  The  beasts  bounded  forward,  spurning  the 
earth  beneath  their  feet.  My  Lady's  face  was  set,  her 
eyes  were  burning  flame,  her  breath  came  short  and 
pantingly  between  her  teeth.  Oxon's  fair  face  was 
white  with  passion ;  he  panted  also,  but  strained  every 
nerve  to  keep  at  her  side,  and  kept  there. 

"Keep  back !  I  warn  thee !"  she  cried  once,  almost 
gasping. 

"Keep  back !"  he  answered,  blind  with  rage.  "I  will 
follow  thee  to  hell!" 

And  in  this  wise  they  galloped  over  the  white  road 
until  the  hedges  disappeared  and  they  were  in  the 
streets,  and  people  turned  to  look  at  them,  and  even 
stood  and  stared.  Then  she  drew  rein  a  little  and 
went  slower,  knowing  with  shuddering  agony  that  the 
trap  was  closing  about  her. 

"What  is  it  that  you  would  say  to  me?"  she  asked 
him,  breathlessly. 

"That  which  I  would  say  within  four  walls,  that 
you  may  hear  it  all,"  he  answered.  "This  time  'tis 
not  idle  threatening.  I  have  a  thing  to  show  you." 

Through  the  streets  they  went,  and  as  her  horse's 
hoofs  beat  the  pavement,  and  the  passers-by,  looking 
toward  her,  gazed  curiously  at  so  fine  a  lady  on  so 
splendid  a  brute,  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  houses,  the 
booths,  the  faces,  and  the  sky  with  a  strange  fancy 
that  she  looked  about  her  as  a  man  looks  who,  doomed 
to  death,  is  being  drawn  in  his  cart  to  Tyburn  tree. 
For  'twas  to  death  she  went,  nor  to  aught  else  could 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          219 

she  compare  it,  and  she  was  so  young  and  strong,  and 
full  of  love  and  life,  and  there  should  have  been  such 
bliss  and  peace  before  her  but  for  one  madness  of  her 
all-unknowing  days.  And  this  beside  her,  this  man 
with  the  fair  face,  and  looks  and  beauteous  devil's  eyes, 
was  her  hangman,  and  carried  his  rope  with  him,  and 
soon  would  fit  it  close  about  her  neck. 

When  they  rode  through  the  part  of  the  town  where 
abode  the  world  of  fashion,  those  who  saw  them  knew 
them,  and  marveled  that  the  two  should  be  together. 

"But  perhaps  his  love  has  made  him  sue  for  pardon 
that  he  has  so  borne  himself,"  some  said,  "and  she  has 
chosen  to  be  gracious  to  him  since  she  is  gracious  in 
these  days  to  all." 

When  they  reached  her  house,  he  dismounted  with 
her,  wearing  an  outward  air  of  courtesy,  but  his  eye 
mocked  her,  as  she  knew.  His  horse  was  in  a  lather 
of  sweat,  and  he  spoke  to  the  servant : 

"Take  my  beast  home,"  he  said.  "He  is  too  hot 
to  stand,  and  I  shall  not  soon  be  ready." 

He  followed  her  to  her  private  saloon,  the  one  to 
which  she  had  taken  Osmonde  on  the  day  of  their 
bliss,  the  one  in  which  in  the  afternoon  she  received 
those  who  came  to  pay  court  to  her  over  a  dish  of 
tea.  In  the  mornings  none  entered  it  but  herself  or 
some  invited  guest.  'Twas  not  the  room  she  would 
have  chosen  for  him,  but  when  he  said  to  her,  "  'Twere 
best  your  Ladyship  took  me  to  some  private  place," 
she  had  known  there  was  no  other  so  safe. 

When  the  door  was  closed  behind  them,  and  they 


220         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

stood  face  to  face,  they  were  a  strange  pair  to  behold, 
she  with  mad  defiance  battling  with  mad  despair  in 
her  face,  he  with  the  mocking  which  every  woman 
who  had  ever  trusted  him  or  loved  him  had  lived  to 
see  in  his  face  when  all  was  lost.  Few  men  there 
lived  who  were  as  vile  as  he,  his  power  of  villainy 
lying  in  that  he  knew  not  the  meaning  of  man's  shame 
or  honor. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "tell  me  the  worst." 

"  'Tis  not  so  bad,"  he  answered,  "that  a  man  should 
claim  his  own  and  swear  that  no  other  man  shall  take  it 
from  him.  That  I  have  sworn  and  that  I  will  hold  to." 

"Your  own!"  she  said;  "your  own,  you  call  it — 
villain!" 

"My  own,  since  I  can  keep  it,"  quoth  he.  "Before 
you  were  my  Lord  of  Dunstanwolde's,  you  were  mine 
— of  your  own  free  will." 

"Nay,  nay,"  she  cried.  "God!  through  some  mad- 
ness I  knew  not  the  awfulness  of — because  I  was  so 
young  and  had  known  naught  but  evil — and  you  were 
so  base  and  wise." 

"Was  your  Ladyship  an  innocent?"  he  answered. 
"It  seemed  not  so  to  me." 

"An  innocent  of  all  good,"  she  cried,  "of  all  things 
good  on  earth,  of  all  that  I  know  now,  having  seen 
manhood  and  honor." 

"His  Grace  of  Osmonde  has  not  been  told  this," 
he  said.  "And  I  shall  make  it  all  plain  to  him — " 

"What  do  you  ask,  devil  ?"  she  broke  forth.  "What 
is't  you  ask?" 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY         221 

"That  you  shall  not  be  the  Duchess  of  Osmonde," 
he  said,  drawing  near  to  her.  "That  you  shall  be 
the  wife  of  Sir  John  Oxon,  as  you  once  called  your- 
self for  a  brief  space,  though  no  priest  had  mumbled 
Over  us — " 

"Who  was't  divorced  us?"  she  said,  gasping;  "for 
I  was  an  honest  thing,  though  I  knew  no  other  virtue. 
Who  was't  divorced  us?" 

"I  confess,"  he  answered,  bowing,  "that  'twas  I — 
for  the  time  being.  I  was  young  and  perhaps  fickle — " 

"And  you  left  me,"  she  cried,  "and  I  found  that  you 
had  come  but  for  a  bet — and  since  I  so  bore  myself 
that  you  could  not  boast,  and  since  I  was  not  a  rich 
woman  whose  fortune  would  be  of  use  to  you,  you 
followed  another  and  left  me — me!" 

"As  his  Grace  of  Osmonde  will  when  I  tell  him 
my  story,"  he  answered.  "He  is  not  one  to  brook 
that  such  things  can  be  told  of  the  mother  of  his  heirs." 

She  would  have  shrieked  aloud  but  that  she  clutched 
her  throat  in  time. 

"Tell  him !"  she  cried ;  "tell  him,  and  see  if  he  will 
hear  you !  Your  word  against  mine !" 

"Think  you  I  do  not  know  that  full  well,"  he  an- 
swered, and  he  brought  forth  a  little  package  folded 
in  silk.  "Why  have  I  done  naught  but  threaten  till 
this  time?  If  I  went  to  him  without  proof  he  would 
run  me  through  with  his  sword  as  I  were  a  mad  dog. 
But  is  there  another  woman  in  England  from  whose 
head  her  lover  could  ravish  a  lock  as  long  and  black 
as  this?" 


222         A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

He  unfolded  the  silk  and  let  other  silk  unfold  itself, 
a  great  and  thick  ring  of  raven  hair  which  uncoiled 
its  serpent  length,  and  though  he  held  it  high,  was 
long  enough  after  swaying  from  his  hand  to  lie  upon 
the  floor. 

"Merciful  God!"  she  cried,  and  shuddering,  hid 
her  face. 

"  Twas  a  bet,  I  own,"  he  said.  "I  heard  too  much 
of  the  mad  beauty,  and  her  disdain  of  men,  not  to  be 
fired  by  a  desire  to  prove  to  her  and  others  that  she 
was  but  a  woman  after  all,  and  so  was  to  be  won.  I 
took  an  oath  that  I  would  come  back  some  day  with 
a  trophy — and  this  I  cut  when  you  knew  not  that  I 
did  it." 

She  clutched  her  throat  again  to  keep  from  shriek- 
ing in  her  impotent  horror. 

"Devil,  craven,  and  loathsome — and  he  knows  not 
what  he  is!"  she  gasped.  "He  is  a  mad  thing  who 
knows  not  that  all  his  thoughts  are  of  hell." 

'Twas  in  sooth  a  strange  and  monstrous  thing  to 
see  him  so  unwavering  and  bold,  flinching  before  no 
ignominy,  shrinking  not  to  speak  openly  the  thing  be- 
fore the  mere  accusation  of  which  other  men's  blood 
would  have  boiled. 

"When  I  bore  it  away  with  me,"  he  said,  "I  lived 
wildly  for  a  space,  and  in  those  days  put  it  in  a  place 
of  safety,  and  when  I  was  sober  again  I  had  for- 
got where.  Yesterday  by  a  strange  chance  I  came 
upon  it.  Think  you  it  can  be  mistaken  for  any  other 
woman's  hair?" 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          223 

At  this  she  held  up  her  hand. 

"Wait,"  she  said.  "You  will  go  to  Osmonde,  you 
will  tell  him  this,  you  will — " 

"I  will  tell  him  all  the  story  of  the  rose-garden  and 
of  the  sun-dial,  and  the  beauty  who  had  wit  enough 
to  scorn  a  man  in  public  that  she  might  more  safely 
hold  tryst  with  him  alone.  She  had  great  wit  and 
cunning  for  a  beauty  of  sixteen.  'Twould  be  well  for 
her  lord  to  have  keen  eyes  when  she  is  twenty." 

He  should  have  seen  the  warning  in  her  eyes,  for 
there  was  warning  enough  in  their  flaming  depths. 

"All  that  you  can  say  I  know,"  she  said;  "all  that 
you  can  say.  And  I  love  him.  There  is  no  other 
man  on  earth.  Were  he  a  beggar  I  would  tramp  the 
high-road  by  his  side  and  go  hungered  with  him.  He 
is  my  lord  and  I  his  .mate — his  mate!" 

"That  you  will  not  be,"  he  answered,  made  devilish 
by  her  words.  "He  is  a  high  and  noble  gentleman, 
and  wants  no  man's  cast-off  plaything  for  his  wife." 

Her  breast  leaped  up  and  down  in  her  panting  as 
she  pressed  her  hand  upon  it,  her  breath  came  in  sharp 
puffs  through  her  nostrils. 

"And  once" —  she  breathed  — "and  once  —  I, loved 
thee— cur!" 

He  was  mad  with  exultant  villainy  and  passion,  and 
he  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"Loved  me!"  he  said.  "Thou!  As  thou  lovedst 
me — and  as  thou  lovest  him — so  will  Moll  Easy  love 
any  man — for  a  crown !" 

Her  whip  lay  upon  the  table,  she  caught  and  whirled 


224          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

it  in  the  air.  She  was  blind  with  the  surging  of  her 
blood  and  saw  not  how  she  caught  or  held  it,  or  what 
she  did — only  that  she  struck ! 

And  'twas  his  temple  that  the  loaded  weapon  met, 
and  'twas  wielded  by  a  wrist  whose  sinews  were  of 
steel,  and  even  as  it  struck  he  gasped,  casting  up  his 
hands,  and  thereupon  fell  and  lay  stretched  at  her  feet. 

But  the  awful  tempest  which  swept  over  her  had 
her  so  under  its  dominion  that  she  was  like  a  branch 
whirled  on  the  wings  of  the  storm.  She  scarce  noted 
that  he  fell,  or,  noting  it,  gave  it  not  one  thought  as 
she  dashed  from  one  end  of  the  apartment  to  the  other 
with  the  fierce  striding  of  a  mad  woman. 

"Devil !"  she  cried,  "and  cur !  And  for  thee  I  blasted 
all  the  years  to  come!  To  a  beast  so  base  I  gave  all 
that  an  empress  herself  could  give — all  life — all  love — 
forever!  And  he  comes  back — shameless — to  barter 
like  a  cheating  huckster — because  his  trade  goes  ill, 
and  I — /  could  stock  his  counters  once  again !" 

She  strode  toward  him  raving. 

"Think  you  I  do  not  know,  woman's  bully  and  pol- 
troon, that  you  plot  to  sell  yourself  because  your  day 
has  come  and  no  woman  will  bid  for  such  an  outcast, 
saving  one  that  you  may  threaten.  Rise,  vermin — rise, 
lest  I  kill  thee!" 

In  her  blind  madness  she  lashed  him  once  across  the 
face  again.  And  he  stirred  not,  and  something  in  the 
resistless  feeling  of  the  flesh  beneath  the  whip,  and  in 
the  quiet  of  his  lying,  caused  her  to  pause  and  stand 
panting  and  staring  at  the  thing  which  lay  before  her ! 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY         225 

For  it  was  a  thing,  and  as  she  stood  staring,  with  wild 
heaving  breast,  this  she  saw.  'Twas  but  a  thing — 
lying  inert,  its  fair  locks  outspread,  its  eyes  rolled  up- 
ward till  the  blue  was  almost  lost,  a  purple  indentation 
on  the  right  temple,  from  which  there  oozed  a  tiny 
thread  of  blood. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

DEALING   WITH    THAT   WHICH    WAS   DONE   IN 
THE    PANELED    PARLOR 

"THERE  will  be  a  way,"  she  had  said,  and  yet  in  her 
most  mad  despair  of  this  way  she  had  never  thought — 
though,  strange  it  had  been,  considering  her  lawless 
past,  that  she  had  not  —  never  of  this  way  —  never ! 
Notwithstanding  which,  in  one  frenzied  moment  in 
which  she  had  known  naught  but  her  delirium,  her 
loaded  whip  had  found  it  for  her — the  way! 

And  yet,  it  so  being  found,  she  stood  staring,  see- 
ing what  she  had  done — seeing  what  had  befallen — 
'twas  as  if  the  blow  had  been  struck  not  at  her  own 
temple,  but  at  her  heart — a  great  and  heavy  shock, 
which  left  her  bloodless  and  choked  and  gasping. 

"What !  what !"  she  panted.  "Nay !  nay !  nay !"  and 
her  eyes  grew  wide  and  wild. 

She  sank  upon  her  knees  so  shuddering  that  her 
teeth  began  to  chatter.  She  pushed  him  and  shook 
him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Stir!"  she  cried  in  a  loud  whisper.  "Move  thee! 
Why  dost  thou  lie  so?  Stir!" 

Yet  he  stirred  not,  but  lay  inert,  only  with  his  lips 
226 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          227 

drawn  back,  showing  his  white  teeth  a  little,  as  if  her 
horrid  agony  made  him  begin  to  laugh.  Shuddering, 
she  drew  slowly  nearer,  her  eyes  more  awful  than 
his  own.  Her  hand  crept,  shaking,  to  his  wrist,  and 
clutched  it.  There  was  naught  astir — naught !  It  stole 
to  his  breast  and,  baring  it,  pressed  close.  That  was 
still  and  moveless  as  his  pulse — for  life  was  ended,  and 
a  hundred  moldering  years  would  not  bring  more  of 
death. 

"I  have  killed  thee,"  she  breathed.  "I  have  killed 
thee  —  though  I  meant  it  not  —  even  hell  itself  doth 
know.  Thou  art  a  dead  man — and  this  is  the  worst 
of  all!" 

His  hand  fell  heavily  from  hers,  and  she  still  knelt, 
staring,  such  a  look  coming  into  her  face  as  through- 
out her  life  had  never  been  there  before — for  'twas 
the  look  of  a  creature  who,  being  tortured,  the  worst 
at  last  being  reached,  begins  to  smile  at  fate. 

"I  have  killed  him !"  she  said  in  a  low,  awful  voice, 
"and  he  lies 'here — and  outside  people  walk  and  know 
not.  But  he  knows — and  I — and  as  he  lies  methinks 
he  smiles — knowing  what  he  has  done !" 

She  crouched  even  lower  still,  the  closer  to  behold 
him,  and  indeed  it  seemed  his  still  face  sneered  as  if 
defying  her  now  to  rid  herself  of  him.  'Twas  as 
though  he  lay  there  mockingly  content,  saying :  "Now, 
that  I  lie  here,  'tis  for  you — for  you  to  move  me." 

She  rose  and  stood  up  rigid,  and  all  the  muscles  of 
her  limbs  were  drawn  as  though  she  were  a  creature 
stretched  upon  a  rack,  for  the  horror  of  this  which 


228          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

had  befallen  her  seemed  to  fill  the  place  about  her  and 
leave  her  no  air  to  breathe  nor  light  to  see. 

"Now!"  she  cried,  "if  I  would  give  way — and  go 
mad  as  I  could  but  do,  for  there  is  naught  else  left — 
if  I  would  but  give  way,  that  which  is  I — and  has 
lived  but  a  poor  score  of  years — would  be  done  with 
for  all  time.  All  whirls  before  me.  'Twas  I  who 
struck  the  blow — and  I  am  a  woman — and  I  could  go 
raving — and  cry  out,  and  call  them  in,  and  point  to 
him,  and  tell  them  how  'twas  done — all!  all!" 

She  choked  and  clutched  her  bosom,  holding  its 
heaving  down  so  fiercely  that  her  nails  bruised  it 
through  her  habit's  cloth,  for  she  felt  that  she  had 
begun  to  rave  already,  and  that  the  waves  of  such 
a  tempest  were  arising  as,  if  not  quelled  at  their  first 
swell,  would  sweep  her  from  her  feet  and  engulf  her 
forever. 

"That— that— "  she  gasped— "nay— that  I  swear  I 
will  not  do!  There  was  always  One  who  hated  me — 
and  doomed  and  hunted  me  from  the  hour  I  lay  'neath 
my  dead  mother's  corpse,  a  new-born  thing.  I  know 
not  who  it  was — or  why — or  how — but  'twas  so!  I 
was  made  evil  and  cast,  helpless,  amid  evil  fates,  and 
having  done  the  things  that  were  ordained,  and  there 
was  no  escape  from,  I  was  shown  noble  manhood  and 
high  honor,  and  taught  to  worship — as  I  worship  now. 
An  angel  might  so  love  and  be  made  higher.  And  at 
the  gate  of  heaven  a  devil  grins  at  me  and  plucks  me 
back,  and  taunts  and  mires  me,  and  I  fall — on  this!" 

She  stretched  forth  her  arms  in  a  great  gesture, 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          229 

wherein  it  seemed  that  surely  she  defied  earth  and 
heaven. 

"No  hope — no  mercy — naught  but  doom  and  hell," 
she  cried,  "unless  the  thing  that  tortured  be  the 
stronger.  Now  —  unless  fate  bray  me  small  —  the 
stronger  I  will  be!" 

She  looked  down  at  the  thing  before  her.  How  its 
stone  face  sneered,  and  even  in  its  sneering  seemed  to 
disregard  her. 

She  knelt  by  it  again,  her  blood  surging  through 
her  body,  which  had  been  cold,  speaking  as  if  she 
would  force  her  voice  to  pierce  its  deadened  ear. 

"Aye,  mock!"  she  said,  setting  her  teeth,  "thinking 
that  I  am  conquered — yet  am  I  not!  'Twas  an  hon- 
est blow,  struck  by  a  creature  goaded  past  all  thought ! 
Aye,  mock — and  yet,  but  for  one  man's  sake  would 
I  call  in  those  outside  and  stand  before  them,  crying : 
'Here  is  a  villain  whom  I  struck  in  madness — and  he 
lies  dead !  I  ask  not  mercy — but  only  justice/  " 

She  crouched  still  nearer,  her  breath  and  words 
coming  hard  and  quick.  'Twas  indeed  as  if  she  spoke 
to  a  living  man  who  heard — as  if  she  answered  what 
he  had  said. 

"There  would  be  men  in  England  who  would  give 
it  to  me,"  she  raved,  whispering.  "That  would  there, 
I  swear!  But  there  would  be  dullards  and  dastards 
who  would  not.  He  would  give  it — he !  Aye,  mock 
as  thou  wilt!  But  between  his  high  honor  and  love 
and  me  thy  carrion  shall  not  come !" 

By  her  great  divan  the  dead  man  had  fallen,  and 


230          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

so  near  to  it  he  lay  that  one  arm  was  hidden  by  the 
draperies.  And  at  this  moment  this  she  saw — before 
having  seemed  to  see  nothing  but  the  death  in  his  face. 
A  thought  came  to  her  like  a  flame  lit  on  a  sudden, 
and  springing  high  the  instant  the  match  struck  the 
fuel  it  leaped  from.  It  was  a  thought  so  daring  and 
so  strange  that  even  she  gasped  once,  being  appalled, 
and  her  hands,  stealing  to  her  brow,  clutched  at  the 
hair  that  grew  there,  feeling  it  seem  to  rise  and  stand 
erect. 

"Is  it  madness  to  so  dare?"  she  said,  hoarsely,  and 
for  an  instant,  shuddering,  hid  her  eyes;  but  then  un- 
covered and  showed  them  burning.  "Nay,  not  as  I 
will  dare  it,"  she  said,  "for  it  will  make  me  steel. 
You  fell  well,"  she  said  to  the  stone- faced  thing ;  "and, 
as  you  lie  there,  seem  to  tell  me  what  to  do,  in  your 
own  despite.  You  would  not  have  so  helped  me  had 
you  known.  Now,  'tis  'twixt  fate  and  I — a  human 
thing — who  is  but  a  hunted  woman." 

She  put  her  strong  hand  forth  and  thrust  him — 
he  was  already  stiffening — backward  from  the  shoul- 
der, there  being  no  shrinking  on  her  face  as  she  felt 
his  flesh  yield  beneath  her  touch,  for  she  had  passed 
the  barrier  lying  between  that  which  is  mere  life  and 
that  which  is  pitiless  hell,  and  could  feel  naught  that 
was  human.  A  poor  wild  beast  at  bay,  pressed  on  all 
sides  by  dogs,  by  huntsmen,  by  resistless  weapons,  by 
nature's  pitiless  self,  glaring  with  bloodshot  eyes,  pant- 
ing, with  fangs  bared  in  the  savagery  of  its  unfriended 
agony,  might  feel  thus.  Tis  but  a  hunted  beast,  but 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          231 

'tis  alone  and  faces  so  the  terror  and  anguish  of  death. 
The  thing  gazing  with  its  set  sneer  and  moving  but 
stiffly,  she  put  forth  another  hand  upon  its  side  and 
thrust  it  farther  backward  until  it  lay  stretched  be- 
neath the  great  broad  seat,  its  glazed  and  open  eyes 
seeming  to  stare  upward  blankly  at  the  low  roof  of 
its  strange  prison ;  she  thrust  it  farther  backward  still, 
and  letting  the  draperies  fall,  steadily  and  with  care  so 
rearranged  them  that  all  was  safe  and  hid  from  sight. 

"Until  to-night,"  she  said,  "you  will  lie  well  there. 
And  then — and  then — " 

She  picked  up  the  long  silken  lock  of  hair  which 
lay  like  a  serpent  at  her  feet  and  threw  it  into  the 
fire,  watching  it  burn  as  all  hair  burns,  with  slow 
hissing,  and  she  watched  it  till  'twas  gone. 

Then  she  stood  with  her  hands  pressed  upon  her 
eyeballs  and  her  brow,  her  thoughts  moving  in  great 
leaps.  Although  it  reeled,  the  brain  which  had  worked 
for  her  ever,  worked  clear  and  strong,  setting  before 
her  what  was  impending,  arguing  her  case,  showing 
her  where  dangers  would  arise,  how  she  must  provide 
against  them,  what  she  must  defend  and  set  at  defi- 
ance. The  power  of  will  with  which  she  had  been 
endowed  at  birth,  and  which  had  but  grown  stronger 
by  its  exercise,  was  indeed  to  be  compared  to  some 
great  engine  whose  lever  'tis  not  nature  should  be 
placed  in  human  hands,  but  on  that  lever  her  hand 
rested  now,  and  to  herself  she  vowed  she  would  con- 
trol it  since  only  thus  might  she  be  saved.  The  tor- 
ture she  had  undergone  for  months,  the  warring  of 


232          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

the  evil  past  with  the  noble  present,  of  that  which 
was  sweet  and  passionately  loving  woman  with  that 
which  was  all  but  devil,  had  strung  her  to  a  pitch 
so  intense  and  high  that  on  the  falling  of  this  un- 
natural and  unforeseen  blow  she  was  left  scarce  a 
human  thing.  Looking  back,  she  saw  herself  a  crea- 
ture doomed  from  birth,  and  here  in  one  moment 
seemed  to  stand  a  force  ranged  in  mad  battle  with 
the  fate  which  had  doomed  her. 

"'Twas  ordained  that  the  blow  should  fall  so," 
she  said,  "and  those  who  did  it  laugh — laugh  at 
me." 

Twas  but  a  moment,  and  her  sharp  breathing  be- 
came even  and  regular,  as  though  at  her  command; 
her  face  composed  itself,  and  she  turned  to  the  bell  and 
rang  it  as  with  imperious  haste. 

When  the  lackey  entered  she  was  standing,  hold- 
ing papers  in  her  hand  as  if  she  had  but  just  been 
consulting  them. 

"Follow  Sir  John  Oxon,"  she  commanded.  "Tell 
him  I  have  forgot  an  important  thing,  and  beg  him 
to  return  at  once.  Lose  no  time.  He  has  but  just  left 
me,  and  can  scarce  be  out  of  sight." 

The  fellow  saw  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  They 
all  feared  that  imperial  eye  of  hers,  and  fled  to  obey 
its  glances.  Bowing,  he  turned  and  hastened  to  do 
her  bidding,  fearing  to  admit  that  he  had  not  seen 
her  guest  leave,  because  to  do  so  would  be  to  confess 
that  he  had  been  absent  from  his  post,  which  was 
indeed  the  truth. 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          233 

She  knew  he  would  come  back  shortly,  and  thus  he 
did,  entering  somewhat  out  of  breath  by  his  haste. 

"My  Lady,"  he  said,  "I  went  quickly  to  the  street, 
and  indeed  to  the  corner  of  it,  but  Sir  John  was  not 
within  sight." 

"Fool,  you  were  not  swift  enough!"  she  said, 
angrily.  "Wait,  you  must  go  to  his  lodgings  with 
a  note.  The  matter  is  of  importance." 

She  went  to  a  table — 'twas  close  to  the  divan,  so 
close  that  if  she  had  thrust  forth  her  foot  she  could 
have  touched  what  lay  beneath  it — and  wrote  hastily 
a  few  lines. 

They  were  to  request  that  which  was  stiffening 
within  three  feet  of  her  to  return  to  her  as  quickly 
as  possible,  that  she  might  make  inquiries  of  an 
important  nature  which  she  had  forgotten  at  his 
departure. 

'Take  this  to  Sir  John's  lodgings,"  she  said.  "Let 
there  be  no  loitering  by  the  way.  Deliver  it  into  his 
own  hands  and  bring*  back  at  once  his  answer." 

Then  she  was  left  alone  again,  and,  being  so  left, 
paced  the  room  slowly,  her  gaze  upon  the  floor. 

"That  was  well  done,"  she  said..  "When  he  returns 
and  has  not  found  him  I  will  be  angered,  and  send 
him  again  to  wait." 

She  stayed  her  pacing  and  passed  her  hand  across 
her  face. 

"  'Tis  like  a  nightmare,"  she  said.  "As  if  one 
dreamed  and  choked  and  panted  and  would  scream 
aloud,  but  could  not.  I  can  not.  I  must  not.  Would 


234         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

that  I  might  shriek  and  dash  myself  upon  the  floor, 
and  beat  my  head  upon  it  until  I  lay — as  he  does." 

She  stood  a  moment  breathing  fast,  her  eyes  widen- 
ing, that  part  of  her  which  was  weak  woman  putting 
her  in  parlous  danger,  realizing  the  which  she  pressed 
her  sides  with  hands  that  were  of  steel. 

"Wait!  wait!"  she  said  to  herself.  'This  is  going 
mad.  This  is  loosening  hold,  and  being  beaten  by 
that  One  who  hates  me  and  laughs  to  see  what  I  have 
come  to." 

Naught  but  that  unnatural  engine  of  will  could  have 
held  her  within  bounds  and  restrained  the  mounting 
female  weakness  that  beset  her,  but  this  engine  being 
stronger  than  all  else,  it  beat  her  womanish  and  swoon- 
ing terrors  down. 

"Through  this  one  day  I  must  live,"  she  said,  "and 
plan  and  guard  each  moment  that  doth  pass.  My  face 
must  tell  no  tale,  my  voice  must  hint  none.  He  will 
lie  still — God  knows  he  will  lie  still  enough." 

Upon  the  divan  itself  there  had  been  lying  a  little 
dog;  'twas  a  King  Charles  spaniel,  a  delicate  pam- 
pered thing  which  attached  itself  to  her,  and  was  not 
easily  driven  away.  Once  during  the  last  hour  the 
fierce,  ill-hushed  voices  had  disturbed  it,  and  it  had 
given  vent  to  a  fretted  bark,  but  being  a  luxurious 
little  beast,  it  had  soon  curled  up  among  its  cushions 
and  gone  to  sleep  again.  But  as  its  mistress  walked 
about  muttering  low  words  and  ofttimes  breathing 
sharp  breaths,  it  became  disturbed  again.  Perhaps, 
through  some  instinct  of  which  naught  is  known  by 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          235 

human  creatures,  it  felt  the  strange  presence  of  a  thing, 
which  roused  it.  It  stirred,  at  first  drowsily,  and  lifted 
its  head  and  sniffed,  then  it  stretched  its  limbs,  and 
having  done  so  stood  up,  turning  on  its  mistress  a 
troubled  eye,  and  this  she  saw  and  stopped  to  meet 
it.  'Twas  a  strange  look  she  bestowed  upon  it,  a 
startled  and  fearful  one;  her  thought  drew  the  blood 
up  to  her  cheek,  but  backward  again  it  flowed  when 
the  little  beast  lifted  its  nose  and  gave  a  low  but  wo- 
ful  howl.  Twice  it  did  this,  and  then  jumped  down, 
and,  standing  before  the  edge  of  the  couch,  stood 
there  sniffing. 

There  was  no  mistake,  some  instinct  of  which  it 
knew  not  the  meaning  had  set  it  on,  and  it  would 
not  be  thrust  back.  In  all  beasts  this  strange  thing 
has  been  remarked — that  they  know  that  which  ends 
them  all,  and  so  revolt  against  it  that  they  can  not 
be  at  rest  so  long  as  it  is  near  them,  but  must  roar 
or  whinny  or  howl  until  'tis  out  of  the  reach  of  their 
scent.  And  so  'twas  plain  this  little  beast  knew  and 
was  afraid  and  restless.  He  would  not  let  it  be,  but 
roved  about,  sniffing  and  whining,  and  not  daring  to 
thrust  his  head  beneath  the  falling  draperies,  but  grow- 
ing more  and  yet  more  excited  and  terrified  until  at 
last  he  stopped,  raised  head  in  air,  and  gave  vent  to  a 
longer,  louder,  and  more  dolorous  Howl,  and  albeit 
to  one  with  so  strange  and  noticeable  a  sound  that 
her  heart  turned  over  in  her  breast  as  she  stooped 
and  caught  him  in  her  grasp  and  shuddered  as  she 
stood  upright,  holding  him  to  her  side,  her  hand  over 


236          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

his  mouth.  But  he  would  not  be  hushed,  and  strug- 
gled to  get  down,  as  if  indeed  he  would  go  mad  unless 
he  might  get  to  the  thing  and  rave  at  it. 

"If  I  send  thee  from  the  room  thou  wilt  come  back, 
poor  Frisk,"  she  said.  "There  will  be  no  keeping  thee 
away,  and  I  have  never  ordered  thee  away  before. 
Why  couldst  thou  not  keep  still  ?  Nay,  'twas  not  dog 
nature." 

That  it  was  not  so  was  plain  by  his  struggles  and 
the  yelps  but  poorly  stifled  by  her  grasp.  She  put  her 
hand  about  his  little  neck,  turning,  in  sooth,  very  pale. 

"Thou  too,  poor  little  beast,"  she  said — "thou  too, 
who  art  so  small  a  thing  and  never  harmed  me — " 

When  the  lackey  came  back  he  wore  an  air  more 
timorous  than  before. 

"Your  Ladyship,"  he  faltered,  "Sir  John  had  not 
yet  reached  his  lodgings.  His  servant  knew  not  when 
he  might  expect  him." 

"In  an  hour  go  again  and  wait,"  she  commanded. 
"He  must  return  ere  long  if  he  has  not  left  town." 

And  having  said  this,  pointed  to  a  little  silken  heap 
which  lay  outstretched  limp  upon  the  floor. 

"  'Tis  poor  Frisk,  who  has  had  some  strange  spasm 
and  fell,  striking  his  head.  He  hath  been  ailing  for 
days  and  howled  loudly  but  an  hour  ago.  Take  him 
away,  poor  beast." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

WHEREIN    HIS    GRACE    OF    OSMONDE's    COURIER 
ARRIVES    FROM    FRANCE 

THE  stronghold  of  her  security  lay  in  the  fact  that 
her  household  so  stood  in  awe  of  her,  and  that  this 
room,  which  was  one  of  the  richest  and  most  beauti- 
ful, though  not  the  largest  in  the  mansion,  all  her 
servitors  had  learned  to  regard  as  a  sort  of  sacred 
place,  in  which  none  dared  to  set  foot  unless  invited 
or  commanded  to  enter.  Within  its  four  walls  she 
read  and  wrote  in  the  morning  hours,  no  servant  en- 
tering unless  summoned  by  her,  and  the  apartment 
seeming  as  it  were  a  citadel,  none  approached  with- 
out previous  parley;  in  the  afternoon  the  doors  were 
thrown  open  and  she  entertained  there  such  visitors 
as  came  with  less  formality  than  statelier  assemblages 
demanded.  When  she  went  out  of  it  this  morning 
to  go  to  her  chamber,  that  her  habit  might  be  changed 
and  her  toilet  made,  she  glanced  about  her  with  a 
steady  countenance. 

"Until  the  babblers  flock  in  to  chatter  of  the  modes 
and  playhouses,"  she  said,  "all  will  be  as  quiet — as  the 
grave.  Then  I  must  stand  near,  and  plan  well — and 
237 


238          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

be  in  such  beauty  and  spirit  that  they  will  see  naught 
but  me." 

In  the  afternoon  'twas  the  fashion  for  those  who 
had  naught  more  serious  in  their  hands  than  the  kill- 
ing of  time,  to  pay  visits  to  each  other's  houses,  and, 
drinking  dishes  of  tea,  to  dispose  of  their  neighbors' 
characters,  discuss  the  playhouses,  the  latest  fashions 
in  furbelows  or  commodes,  and  make  love  either  lightly 
or  with  serious  intent.  One  may  be  sure  that  at  my 
Lady  Dunstanwolde's  many  dishes  of  Bohea  were 
drunk,  and  many  ogling  glances  and  much  witticism 
exchanged.  There  was  in  these  days  even  a  greater 
following  about  her  than  ever.  A  triumphant  beauty 
on  the  verge  of  becoming  a  great  duchess  is  not  like 
to  be  neglected  by  her  acquaintance,  and  thus  her 
Ladyship  held  assemblies  both  gay  and  brilliantly 
varied,  which  were  the  delight  of  the  fashionable 
triflers  of  the  day. 

This  afternoon  they  flocked  in  greater  numbers 
than  usual.  The  episode  of  the  breaking  of  Devil, 
the  unexpected  return  of  the  Duke  of  Osmonde,  the 
preparations  for  the  union,  had  given  an  extra  stimu- 
lant to  that  interest  in  her  Ladyship  which  was  ever 
great  enough  to  need  none.  Thereunto  was  added  the 
piquancy  of  the  stories  of  the  noticeable  demeanor  of 
Sir  John  Oxon,  of  what  had  seemed  to  be  so  plain 
a  rebellion  against  his  fate,  and  also  of  my  Lady's 
open  and  cold  displeasure  at  the  manner  of  his  bear- 
ing himself  as  a  disappointed  man  who  presumed  to 
show  anger  against  that  to  which  he  should  gallantly 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY         239 

have  been  resigned,  as  one  who  is  conquered  by  the 
chance  of  war.  Those  who  had  beheld  the  two  ride 
homeward  together  in  the  morning  were  full  of  curi- 
ousness,  and  one  and  another  mentioning  the  matter 
exchanged  glances,  speaking  plainly  of  desire  to  know 
more  of  what  had  passed,  and  of  hope  that  chance 
might  throw  the  two  together  again  in  public,  where 
more  of  interest  might  be  gathered.  It  seemed,  in- 
deed, not  unlikely  that  Sir  John  might  appear  among 
the  tea-bibbers,  and  perchance  'twas  for  this  lively  rea- 
son that  my  Lady's  room  was,  this  afternoon,  more 
than  usually  full  of  gay  spirits  and  gossip-loving  ones. 
They  found,  however,  only  her  Ladyship's  self,  and 
her  sister,  Mistress  Anne,  who  of  truth  did  not  often 
join  her  tea-parties,  finding  them  so  given  up  to  fash- 
ionable chatter  and  worldly  witticisms  that  she  felt 
herself  somewhat  out  of  place.  The  world  knew  Mis- 
tress Anne  but  as  a  dull,  plain  gentlewoman,  whom 
her  more  brilliant  and  fortunate  sister  gave  gracious 
protection  to,  and  none  missed  her  when  she  was  ab- 
sent or  observed  her  greatly  when  she  appeared  upon 
the  scene.  To-day  she  was  perchance  more  observed 
than  usual,  because  her  pallor  was  so  great  a  contrast 
to  her  Ladyship's  splendor  of  beauty  and  color.  The 
contrast  between  them  was  ever  a  great  one,  but  this 
afternoon  Mistress  Anne's  always  pale  countenance 
seemed  almost  livid;  there  were  rings  of  pain  or  ill- 
ness round  her  eyes,  and  her  features  looked  drawn 
and  pinched.  My  Lady  Dunstanwolde,  clad  in  a  great 
rich  petticoat  of  crimson-flowered  satin,  with  won- 


24o          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

drous  yellow  Mechlin  for  her  ruffles,  and  with  her 
glorious  hair  dressed  like  a  tower,  looked  taller,  more 
goddess-like  and  full  of  splendid  fire  than  ever  she 
had  been  before  beheld,  or  so  her  visitors  said  to  her 
and  to  each  other,  though  to  tell  the  truth  this  was 
no  new  story,  she  being  one  of  those  women  having 
the  curious  power  of  inspiring  the  beholder  with  the 
feeling,  each  time  he  encountered  them,  that  he  had 
never  before  seen  them  in  such  beauty  and  bloom. 

When  she  had  come  down  the  staircase  from  her 
chamber,  Anne,  who  had  been  standing  at  the  foot, 
had,  indeed,  started  somewhat  at  the  sight  of  her  rich 
dress  and  brilliant  hues. 

"Why  do  you  jump  as  if  I  were  a  ghost,  Anne?" 
she  asked.  "Do  I  look  like  one?  My  looking-glass 
did  not  tell  me  so." 

"No,"  said  Anne,  "you — are  so — so  crimson  and 
splendid — and  I — " 

Her  Ladyship  came  swiftly  down  the  stairs  to  her. 

"You  are  not  crimson  and  splendid,"  she  said. 
"  Tis  you  who  are  a  ghost.  What  is  it  ?" 

Anne  let  her  soft,  dull  eyes  rest  upon  her  for  a 
moment  helplessly,  and  when  she  replied  her  voice 
sounded  weak. 

"I  think— I  am  ill,  sister,"  she  said.  "I  seem  to 
tremble  and  feel  faint." 

"Go,  then,  to  bed  and  see  the  physician.  You  must 
be  cared  for,"  said  her  Ladyship.  "In  sooth,  you  look 
ill,  indeed." 

"Nay,"  said  Anne,  "I  beg  you,  sister,  this  afternoon 


A    LADY   OF   QUALITY          241 

let  me  be  with  you.  It  will  sustain  me.  You  are  so 
strong — let  me — " 

She  put  out  her  hand  as  if  to  touch  her,  but  it 
dropped  at  her  side  as  though  its  strength  was  gone. 

"But  there  will  be  many  babbling  people,"  said 
her  sister,  with  a  curious  look.  "You  do  not  like 
company,  and  these  days  my  rooms  are  full.  'Twill 
irk  and  tire  you." 

"I  care  not  for  the  people — I  would  be  with  you," 
Anne  said,  in  strange  imploring.  "I  have  a  sick  fancy 
that  I  am  afraid  to  sit  alone  in  my  chamber.  Tis  but 
weakness.  Let  me  this  afternoon  be  with  you." 

"Go,  then,  and  change  your  robe,"  said  Clorinda; 
"and  put  some  red  upon  your  cheeks.  You  may  come 
if  you  will ;  you  are  a  strange  creature,  Anne." 

And  thus  saying  she  passed  into  her  apartment 

As  there  are  blows  and  pain  which  end  in  insensi- 
bility or  delirium,  'so  there  are  catastrophes  and  perils 
which  are  so  great  as  to  produce  something  near  akin 
to  these.  As  she  had  stood  before  her  mirror  in  her 
chamber  watching  her  reflection,  while  her  woman  at- 
tired her  in  her  crimson-flowered  satin  and  builded 
up  her  stately  head-dress,  this  other  woman  had  felt 
that  the  hour  when  she  could  have  shrieked  and  raved 
and  betrayed  herself  had  passed  by  and  left  a  deadness 
like  a  calm  behind,  as  though  horror  had  stunned  all 
pain  and  yet  left  her  senses  clear. 

She  forgot  not  the  thing  which  lay  staring  upward 
blankly  at  the  under  part  of  the  couch  which  hid  it, 
the  look  of  its  fixed  eyes,  its  outspread  locks,  and  the 
ii  VOL.  2 


242         A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

purple  indentation  on  the  temple — she  saw  th'em  as 
clearly  as  she  had  seen  them  in  that  first  mad  moment 
when  she  had  stood  staring  downward  at  the  thing 
itself;  but  the  coursing  of  her  blood  was  stilled,  the 
gallop  of  her  pulses,  and  that  wild,  hysteric  leaping  of 
her  heart  into  her  throat,  choking  her  and  forcing  her 
to  gasp  and  pant  in  that  way  which  in  women  must 
ever  end  in  shrieks  and  cries  and  sobbing  beatings  of 
the  air.  But  for  the  feminine  softness  to  which  her 
nature  had  given  way,  for  the  first  time  since  the 
power  of  love  had  mastered  her,  there  was  nothing 
of  earth  could  have  happened  to  her  which  would  have 
brought  this  rolling  ball  to  her  throat,  this  tremor  to 
her  body.  Since  the  hour  of  her  birth  she  had  never 
been  attacked  by  such  a  female  folly,  as  she  would  in- 
deed have  regarded  it  once ;  but  now  'twas  different — 
for  a  while  she  had  been  a  woman — a  woman  who  had 
flung  herself  upon  the  breast  of  her  soul's  lord,  and, 
resting  there,  her  old,  rigid  strength  had  been  relaxed. 

But  'twas  not  this  woman  who  had  known  tender 
yielding  who  returned  to  take  her  place  in  the  paneled 
parlor,  knowing  of  the  companion  who  waited  near 
her  unseen — for  it  was  as  her  companion  she  thought 
of  him,  as  she  had  thought  of  him  when  he  followed 
her  in  the  Mall,  forced  himself  into  her  box  at  the 
play,  or  stood  by  her  shoulder  at  assemblies;  he  had 
placed  himself  by  her  side  again,  and  would  stay  there 
until  she  could  rid  herself  of  him. 

"After  to-night  he  will  be  gone,  if  I  act  well  my 
part,"  she  said,  "and  then  may  I  live  a  freed  woman." 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          243 

'Twas  always  upon  the  divan  she  took  her  place 
when  she  received  her  visitors,  who  were  accustomed 
to  finding  her  enthroned  there.  This  afternoon,  when 
she  came  into  the  room,  she  paused  for  a  space,  and 
stood  beside  it,  the  parlor  being  yet  empty.  She  felt 
her  face  grow  a  little  cold,  as  if  it  paled,  and  her  un- 
derlip  drew  itself  tight  across  the  teeth. 

"In  a  graveyard,"  she  said,  ''I  have  sat  upon  the 
stone  ledge  of  a  tomb,  and  beneath  there  was — worse 
than  this,  could  I  but  have  seen  it.  This  is  no  more." 

When  the  Sir  Humphrys  and  Lord  Charleses,  Lady 
Bettys  and  Mistress  Lovelys  were  announced  in  flocks, 
fluttering  and  chattering,  she  rose  from  her  old  place 
to  meet  them,  and  was  brilliant  graciousness  itself. 
She  harkened  to  their  gossipings,  and  though  'twas 
not  her  way  to  join  in  them,  she  was  this  day  witty 
in  such  way  as  robbed  them  of  the  dulness  in  which 
sometimes  gossip  ends.  It  was  a  varied  company 
which  gathered  about  her,  but  to  each  she  gave  his 
or  her  moment,  and  in  that  moment  said  that  which 
they  would  afterward  remember.  With  those  of  the 
Court  she  talked  royalty,  the  humors  of  her  Majesty, 
the  severities  of  her  Grace  of  Marlborough;  with 
statesmen  she  spoke  with  such  intellect  and  discretion 
that  they  went  away  pondering  on  the  good  fortune 
which  had  befallen  one  man,  when  it  seemed  that  it 
was  of  such  proportions  as  might  have  satisfied  a 
dozen,  for  it  seemed  not  fair  to  them  that  his  Grace 
of  Osmonde,  having  already  rank,  wealth,  and  fame, 
should  have  added  to  them  a  gift  of  such  magnificence 


244          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

as  this  beauteous  woman  would  bring.  With  beaux 
and  wits  she  made  dazzling  jests,  and  to  the  beauties 
who  desired  their  flatteries  she  gave  praise  so  adroit 
that  they  were  stimulated  to  plume  their  feathers 
afresh  and  cease  to  fear  the  rivalry  of  her  loveliness. 

And  yet,  while  she  so  bore  herself,  never  once  did 
she  cease  to  feel  the  presence  of  that  which,  lying 
near,  seemed  to  her  racked  soul  as  one  who  lay  and 
listened  with  staring  eyes  which  mocked;  for  there 
was  a  thought  which  would  not  leave  her,  which  was 
that  it  could  hear,  that  it  could  see  through  the  glaz- 
ing on  its  blue  orbs,  and  that  knowing  itself  bound 
by  the  moveless  irons  of  death  and  dumbness,  it  im- 
potently  raged  and  cursed  that  it  could  not  burst  them 
and  shriek  out  its  vengeance,  rolling  forth  among  her 
worshipers  at  their  feet  and  hers. 

"But  he  can  not,"  she  said  within  her  clenched  teeth 
again  and  again.  "That  he  can  not." 

Once,  as  she  said  this  to  herself,  she  caught  Anne's 
eyes  fixed  helplessly  upon  her,  it  seeming  to  be,  as 
the  poor  woman  had  said,  that  her  weakness  caused 
her  to  desire  to  abide  near  her  sister's  strength  and 
draw  support  from  it,  for  she  had  remained  at  my 
Lady's  side  closely  since  she  had  descended  to  the 
room,  and  now  seemed  to  implore  some  protection 
for  which  she  was  too  timid  to  openly  make  request 

"You  are  too  weak  to  stay,  Anne,"  her  Ladyship 
said.  "  'Twould  be  better  that  you  should  retire." 

"I  am  weak,"  the  poor  thing  answered  in  low  tones, 
"but  not  too  weak-  to  stay.  I  am  always  weak.  Would 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY         245 

that  I  were  of  your  strength  and  courage.  Let  me 
sit  down  —  sister  —  here."  She  touched  the  divan's 
cushions  with  a  shaking  hand,  gazing  upward  wearily 
— perchance  remembering  that  this  place  seemed  ever 
a  sort  of  throne  none  other  than  the  hostess  queen 
herself  presumed  to  encroach  upon. 

"You  are  too  meek,  poor  sister,"  quoth  Clorinda. 
"  Tis  not  a  chair  of  coronation  or  the  woolsack  of  a 
judge.  Sit!  sit! — and  let  me  call  for  wine!" 

She  spoke  to  a  lackey  and  bade  him  bring  the  drink, 
for  even  as  she  sank  into  her  place,  'Anne's  cheeks  grew 
whiter. 

When  'twas  brought  her  Ladyship  poure'd  it  forth 
and  gave  it  to  her  sister  with  her  own  hand,  obliging 
her  to  drink  enough  to  bring  her  color  back.  Having 
seen  to  this,  she  addressed  the  servant  who  had  obeyed 
her  order. 

"Hath  Jenfry  returned  from  Sir  John  Oxon'?"  she 
demanded  in  that  clear,  ringing  voice  of  hers,  whose 
music  ever  arrested  those  surrounding  her,  whether 
they  were  concerned  in  her  speech  or  no.  But  now  all 
felt  sufficient  interest  to  prick  up  ears  and  barken  to 
what  was  said. 

"No,  my  lady/'  the  lackey  answered.  "He  said 
that  you  had  bidden  him  to  wait." 

"But  not  all  day,  poor  fool,"  she  said,  setting  down 
Anne's  empty  glass  upon  the  salver.  "Did  he  think 
I  bade  him  stand  about  the  door  till  night?  Bring 
me  his  message  when  he  comes." 

"  Tis  ever  thus  with  these  dull  serving  folk,"  she 


246         A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

said  to  those  nearest  her.  "One  can  not  pay  for  wit 
with  wages  and  livery.  They  can  but  obey  the  literal 
word.  Sir  John  leaving  me  in  haste  this  morning, 
I  forgot  a  question  I  would  have  asked,  and  sent  a 
lackey  to  recall  him." 

Anne  sat  upright. 

"Sister — I  pray  you — another  glass  of  wine." 

My  Lady  gave  it  to  her  at  once,  and  she  drained  it 

"Was  he  overtaken?"  said  a  curious  matron,  who 
wished  not  to  see  the  subject  closed. 

"No,"  quoth  her  Ladyship,  with  a  light  laugh — 
"though  he  must  have  been  in  haste,  for  the  man  was 
sent  after  in  but  a  moment's  time.  'Twas  then  I  told 
the  fellow  to  go  later  to  his  lodgings  and  deliver  my 
message  into  Sir  John's  own  hand,  whence  it  seems 
that  he  thinks  that  he  must  await  him  till  he  comes." 

Upon  a  table  near  there  lay  the  loaded  whip,  for 
she  had  felt  it  bolder  to  let  it  lie  there  as  if  forgotten, 
because  her  pulse  had  sprung  so  at  first  sight  of  it 
when  she  came  down,  and  she  had  so  quailed  before 
the  desire  to  thrust  it  away — to  hide  it  from  her  sight. 
"And  that  I  quail  before,"  she  had  said,  "I  must  have 
the  will  to  face — or  I  am  lost."  So  she  had  let  it  stay. 

A  languishing  beauty  with  melting  blue  eyes  and 
a  pretty  fashion  of  ever  keeping  before  the  world  of 
her  admirers  her  waxen  delicacy,  lifted  the  heavy 
thing  in  her  frail,  white  hand. 

"How  can  your  Ladyship  wield  it  ?".  she  said.  "It 
is  so  heavy  for  a  woman;  but  your  Ladyship  is — is 
not—" 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          247 

"Not  quite  a  woman,"  said  the  beautiful  creature, 
standing  at  her  full,  great  height  and  smiling  down 
at  this  blue  and  white  piece  of  frailty  with  the  flashing 
splendor  of  her  eyes. 

"Not  quite  a  woman,"  said  two  wits  at  once.  "A 
goddess  rather — an  Olympian  goddess." 

The  languisher  could  not  endure  comparisons  which 
so  seemed  to  disparage  her  ethereal  charms.  She 
lifted  the  weapon  with  a  great  effort,  which  showed 
the  slimness  of  her  delicate,  fair  wrist  and  the  sweet 
tracery  of  blue  veins  upon  it. 

"Nay,"  she  said,  lispingly,  "it  needs  the  muscle  of 
a  great  man  to  lift  it.  I  could  not  hold  it — much 
less  beat  with  it  a  horse,"  and  to  show  how  coarse 
a  strength  was  needed,  and  how  far  her  femininity 
lacked  such  vigor,  she  dropped  it  upon  the  floor — 
and  it  rolled  beneath  the  edge  of  the  divan. 

"Now" — the  thought  shot  through  my  Lady's 
brain  as  a  bolt  shoots  from  the  sky — "now — he 
laughs  I" 

She  had  no  time  to  stir — there  were  upon  their 
knees  three  beaux  at  once — and  each  would  sure  have 
thrust  his  arm  below  the  seat  and  rummaged  had  not 
God  saved  her!  Yes,  'twas  of  God  she  thought  of  in 
that  terrible  mad  second — God ! — and  only  a  mind  that 
is  not  human  could  have  told  why. 

For  Anne — poor  Mistress  Anne — white-faced  and 
shaking,  was  before  them  all — and  with  a  strange 
adroitness  stooped  and  thrust  her  hand  below,  and, 
drawing  the  thing  forth,  held  it  up  to  view. 


248          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

"  Tis  here,"  she  said ;  "and  in  sooth,  sister,  I  won- 
der not  at  its  falling — its  weight  is  so  great." 

Clorinda  took  it  from  her  hand. 

"I  shall  break  no  more  beasts  like  Devil,"  she  said, 
"and  for  quieter  ones  it  weighs  too  much;  I  shall  lay 
it  by/' 

She  crossed  the  room  and  laid  it  upon  the  shelf. 

"It  was  ever  heavy  —  but  for  Devil.  'Tis  done 
with,"  she  said — and  there  came  back  to  her  face — 
which  for  a  second  had  lost  hue — a  flood  of  crimson 
so  glowing,  and  a  smile  so  strange,  that  those  who 
looked  and  heard  said  to  themselves  that  'twas  the 
thought  of  Osmonde,  who  had  so  changed  her,  which 
made  her  blush. 

But  a  few  moments  later  they  beheld  the  same 
glow  mount  again.  A  lackey  entered,  bearing  a  sal- 
ver on  which  lay  two  letters.  One  was  a  large  one, 
sealed  with  a  ducal  coronet,  and  this  she  saw  first 
and  took  in  her  hand  even  before  the  man  had  time 
to  speak. 

"His  Grace's  courier  has  arrived  from  France,"  he 
said;  "the  package  was  ordered  to  be  delivered  at 
once." 

"It  must  be  that  his  Grace  returns  earlier  than 
we  had  hoped,"  she  said,  and  then  the  other  missive 
caught  her  eye. 

"  'Tis  your  Ladyship's  own,"  the  lackey  explained, 
somewhat  anxiously.  "  'Twas  brought  back,  Sir  John 
not  having  yet  come  home,  and  Jenfry  having  waited 
three  hours." 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY         249 

"  'Twas  long  enough,"  quoth  her  Ladyship.  "  Twill 
do  to-morrow." 

She  did  not  lay  Osmonde's  letter  aside,  but  kept 
it  in  her  hand,  and  seeing  that  she  waited  for  their 
retirement  to  read  it,  her  guests  began  to  make  their 
farewells.  One  by  one,  or  in  groups  of  twos  or  threes, 
they  left  her,  the  men  bowing  low  and  going  away 
fretted  by  the  memory  of  the  picture  she  made,  a  tall 
and  regal  figure  in  her  flowered  crimson,  her  stateli- 
ness  seeming  relaxed  and  softened  by  the  mere  hold- 
ing of  the  sealed  missive  in  her  hand ;  but  the  women 
were  vaguely  envious,  not  of  Osmonde,  but  of  her 
before  whom  there  lay  outspread,  as  far  as  life's  hori- 
zon reached,  a  future  of  such  perfect  love  and  joy; 
for  Gerald  Mertoun  had  been  marked  by  feminine 
eyes  since  his  earliest  youth,  and  had  seemed  to  em- 
body all  that  woman's  dreams,  or  woman's  ambitions, 
or  her  love  could  desire. 

When  the  last  was  gone,  Clorinda  turned,  tore  her 
letter  open,  and  held  it  hard  to  her  lips.  Before  she 
read  a  word  she  kissed  it  passionately  a  score  of  times, 
paying  no  heed  that  Anne  sat  gazing  at  her ;  and  hav- 
ing kissed  it  so,  she  fell  to  reading  it,  her  cheeks  warm 
with  the  glow  of  a  sweet  and  splendid  passion,  her 
bosom  rising  and  falling  in  a  tempest  of  tender,  flutter- 
ing breaths,  and  'twas  these  words  her  eyes  devoured : 

"//  /  should  head  this  page  I  write  to  you,  'Goddess, 
and  Queen,  and  Empress  of  my  deepest  soul'  what 
more  should  I  be  saying  than  'My  Love'  and  'My 


250          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

Clorinda,'  since  these  express  all  the  soul  of  man  could 
crave  for  or  his  body  desire?  The  body  and  soul  of 
me  so  long  for  thee,  sweetheart,  and  sweetest,  beau- 
tiful woman  that  the  hand  of  nature  ever  fashioned 
for  the  joy  of  mortals,  that  I  have  had  need  to  pray 
Heaven's  help  to  aid  me  to  endure  the  passing  of  the 
days  that  lie  between  me  and  the  hour  which  will  make 
me  the  most  strangely,  rapturously,  happy  man,  not 
in  England,  not  in  the  world,  but  in  all  God's  universe. 
I  must  pray  Heaven  again,  and,  indeed,  do  and  will, 
for  humbleness  which  shall  teach  me  to  remember  that 
I  am  not  deity,  but  mere  man — mere  man — though  I 
shall  hold  a  goddess  to  my  breast  and  gaze  into  eyes 
which  are  like  deep  pools  of  Paradise,  and  yet  answer 
mine  with  the  marvel  of  such  love  as  none  but  such 
a  soul  could  make  a  woman's,  and  so  fit  to  mate  with 
man's. 

"In  the  heavy  days  when  I  was  wont  to  gaze  at 
you  from  afar  with  burning  heart,  my  unceasing 
anguish  was  that  even  high  honor  itself  could  not  sub- 
due and  conquer  the  thoughts  which  leaped  within  me, 
even  as  my  pulse  leaped,  and  even  as  my  pulse  could 
not  be  stilled  unless  by  death.  'And  one  that  forever 
haunted,  aye,  and  taunted,  me  was  the  image  of  how 
your  tall,  beauteous  body  would  yield  itself  to  a  strong 
man's  arm,  and  your  noble  head,  with  its  heavy  tower 
of  hair  resting  upon  his  shoulder,  the  centres  of  his 
very  being  would  be  thrilled  and  shaken  by  the  up- 
lifting of  such  melting  eyes  as  surely  man  never  gazed 
within  on  earth  before,  and  the  ripe  and  scarlet  bow 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          251 

'of  a  mouth  so  beauteous  and  so  sweet  with  woman- 
hood. This  beset  me  day  and  night,  and  with  such 
torture,  that  I  feared  betimes  my  brain  might  reel,  and 
I  become  a  lost  and  ruined  madman.  And  now,  it  is 
no  more  forbidden  me  to  dwell  in  it — nay,  I  lay  wak- 
ing at  night,  wooing  the  picture  to  me,  and  at  times 
I  rise  from  my  dreams  to  kneel  by  my  bedside  and 
thank  God  that  he  hath  given  me  at  last  ivhat  surely 
is  my  own;  for  so  it  seems  to  me,  my  love,  that  each 
of  us  is  but  a  part  of  the  other,  and  that  such  forces 
of  nature  rush  to  meet  together  in  us,  that  nature  her- 
self would  cry  out  were  we  rent  apart.  If  there  were 
aught  to  rise  like  a  ghost  between  us,  if  there  were 
aught  that  could  sunder  us,  noble  soul,  let  us  swear 
that  it  shall  weld  us  but  the  closer  together,  and  that, 
locked  in  each  other's  arms,  its  blows  shall  not  even 
make  our  united  strength  to  sway.  Sweetest  lady, 
your  lovely  lip  will  curve  in  smiles  and  you  will  say, 
'he  is  mad  with  his  joy,  my  Gerald'  (for  never  till  my 
heart  stops  at  its  last  beat  and  leaves  me  still,  a  dead 
man,  cold  upon  my  bed,  can  I  forget  the  music  of  your 
speech  ivhen  you  spoke  those  ivords,  'My  Gerald!  My 
'Gerald!'}.  'And,  indeed,  I  crave  your  pardon,  for  a 
man  so  filled  with  rapture  can  not  be  quite  sane,  and 
sometimes  I  wonder  if  I  walk  through  the  palace  gar- 
dens like  one  who  is  drunk,  so  does  my  brain  reel.  But 
soon,  my  heavenly,  noble  love,  my  exile  will  be  over, 
and  this  is  in  truth  what  my  letter  will  tell  you,  that 
in  four  days  your  lackeys  will  throw  open  your  doors 
to  me  and  I  shall  enter,  and,  being  led  to  you,  shall  kneel 


2$2          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

at  your  feet  and  kiss  the  hem  of  your  robe,  and  then 
rise  standing  to  fold  her  who  will  soon  be  my  very 
wife  to  my  throbbing  breast." 

Back  to  her  face  had  come  all  the  softness  which 
had  been  lost,  the  hard  lines  were  gone,  the  tender 
curves  had  returned,  her  lashes  looked  as  if  they  were 
moist.  Anne,  sitting  rigidly  and  gazing  at  her,  was 
afraid  to  speak,  knowing  that  she  was  not  for  the 
time  on  earth,  but  that  the  sound  of  a  voice  would 
bring  her  back  to  it,  and  that  'twas  well  she  should 
be  away  as  long  as  she  might. 

She  read  the  letter  not  once  but  thrice,  dwelling 
upon  every  word,  'twas  plain;  and  when  she  had 
reached  the  last  one  turning  back  the  pages  and  be- 
ginning again.  When  she  looked  up  at  last,  'twas  with 
an  almost  wild  little  smile,  for  she  had,  indeed,  for 
that  one  moment,  forgotten. 

"  'Locked  in  each  other's  arms,'  "  she  said ;  "  Mocked 
in  each  other's  arms.'  My  Gerald !  My  Gerald !  What 
surely  is  my  own — my  own!" 

Anne  rose  and  came  to  her,  laying  her  hand  on  her 
arm.  She  spoke  in  a  voice  low,  hushed,  and  strained. 

"Come  away,  sister,"  she  said.  "For  a  little  while, 
come  away." 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

MY  LADY  DUNSTANWOLDE  SITS  LATE  ALONE 
AND    WRITES 

THAT  she  must  leave  the  paneled  parlor  at  her 
usual  hour,  or  attract  attention  by  doing  that  to  which 
her  household  was  unaccustomed,  she  well  knew,  her 
manner  of  life  being  ever  stately  and  ceremonious  in 
its  regularity.  When  she  dined  at  home,  she  and  Anne 
partook  of  their  repast  together  in  the  large  dining- 
room,  the  table  loaded  with  silver  dishes  and  massive 
glittering  glass,  their  powdered,  gold-laced  lackeys  in 
attendance  as  though  a  score  of  guests  had  shared  the 
meal  with  them.  Since  her  lord's  death  there  had  been 
nights  when  her  Ladyship  had  sat  late,  writing  let- 
ters and  reading  documents  pertaining  to  her  estates, 
the  management  of  which,  though  in  a  measure  con- 
trolled by  stewards  and  attorneys,  was  not  left  to  them 
as  the  business  of  most  great  ladies  is  generally  left 
to  others.  All  papers  were  examined  by  her,  all  leases 
and  agreements  clearly  understood  before  she  signed 
them,  and  if  there  were  aught  unsatisfactory  both 
stewards  and  lawyers  were  called  to  her  presence  to 
explain. 

253 


254         A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

"Never  did  I — or  any  other  man — meet  with  such 
a  head  upon  a  woman's  shoulders,"  her  attorney  said. 
And  the  head  steward  of  Dunstanwolde  and  Helversly 
learned  to  quake  at  the  sight  of  her  bold  handwriting 
upon  the  outside  of  a  letter. 

"Such  a  lady !"  he  said.  "Such  a  lady!  Lie  to  her 
if  you  can,  palter  if  you  know  how ;  try  upon  her  the 
smallest  honest  shrewd  trick,  and  see  how  it  fares  with 
you.  Were  it  not  that  she  is  generous  as  she  is  pierc- 
ing of  eye,  no  man  could  serve  her  and  make  an  hon- 
est living." 

She  went  to  her  chamber  and  was  attired  again 
sumptuously  for  dinner.  Before  she  descended  she 
dismissed  her  woman  for  a  space  on  some  errand,  and 
when  she  was  alone,  drawing  near  to  her  mirror,  gazed 
steadfastly  within  it  at  her  face.  When  she  had  read 
Osmonde's  letter  her  cheeks  had  glowed,  but  when  she 
had  come  back  to  earth,  and  as  she  had  sat  under  her 
woman's  hands  at  her  toilet,  bit  by  bit  the  crimson 
had  died  out  as  she  had  thought  of  what  was  behind 
her  and  of  what  lay  before.  The  thing  was  so  stiffly 
rigid  by  this  time  and  its  eyes  still  stared  so.  Never 
had  she  needed  to  put  red  upon  her  cheeks  before,  na- 
ture having  stained  them  with  such  richness  of  hue, 
but,  as  no  lady  of  the  day  was  unprovided  with 
her  crimson,  there  was  a  little  pot  among  her  toilet 
ornaments  which  contained  all  that  any  emergency 
might  require.  She  opened  this  small  receptacle 
and  took  from  it  the  red  she  for  the  first  time  was 
in  want  of. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          255 

"I  must  not  wear  a  pale  face,  God  knows,"  she  said, 
and  rubbed  the  color  on  her  cheeks  with  boldness. 

It  would  have  seemed  that  she  wore  her  finest  crim- 
son when  she  went  forth  full  dressed  from  her  apart- 
ment. Little  Nero  grinned  to  see  her,  the  lackeys 
saying  among  themselves  that  his  Grace's  courier  had 
surely  brought  good  news,  and  that  they  might  ex- 
pect his  master  soon.  At  the  dinner  table  'twas  Anne 
who  was  pale  and  ate  but  little,  she  having  put  no 
red  upon  her  cheeks,  and  having-  no  appetite  for 
what  was  spread  before  her.  She  looked  strangely, 
as  though  she  were  small  and  shrunken,  and  her  face 
seemed  even  wrinkled.  My  Lady  had  small  leaning 
toward  food,  but  she  sent  no  viand  away  untouched, 
forcing  herself  to  eat  and  letting  not  the  talk  flag, 
though  it  was  indeed  true  that  'twas  she  herself  who 
talked,  Mistress  Anne  speaking  rarely;  but  as  it 
was  always  Anne's  way  to  be  silent  and  a  listener 
rather  than  one  who  conversed,  this  was  not  greatly 
noticeable. 

Her  Ladyship  of  Dunstanwoldc  talked  of  her  guests 
of  the  afternoon,  and  was  charming  and  witty  in  her 
speech  of  them;  she  repeated  the  mots  of  the  wits  and 
told  some  brilliant  stories  of  certain  modish  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  fashion;  she  had  things  to  say  of 
statesmen  and  politics,  and  was  sparkling  indeed  in 
speaking  of  the  lovely  languisher  whose  little  wrist 
was  too  delicate  and  slender  to  support  the  loaded 
whip.  While  she  talked,  Mistress  Anne's  soft,  dull 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  a  sort  of  wonder  which 


256          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

had  some  of  the  quality  of  bewilderment,  but  this  was 
no  new  thing  either,  for  to  the  one  woman  the  other 
was  ever  something  to  marvel  at. 

"It  is  because  you  are  so  quiet  a  mouse,  Anne,"  my 
Lady  said,  with  her  dazzling  smile,  "that  you  seem 
never  in  the  way.  And  yet  I  should  miss  you  if  I 
knew  you  were  not  within  the  house.  When  the  Duke 
takes  me  to  Camylott  you  must  be  with  me  even  then. 
It  is  so  great  a  house  that  in  it  I  can  find  you  a  bower 
in  which  you  can  be  happy,  even  if  you  see  us  but  little. 
'Tis  a  heavenly  place,  I  am  told,  and  of  great  splendor 
and  beauty.  The  park  and  flower-gardens  are  the  envy 
of  all  England." 

"You — will  be  very  happy,  sister,"  said  Anne,  "and 
— and  like  a  queen." 

"Yes,"  was  her  sister's  answer,  "yes."  And  'twas 
spoken  with  a  deep  indrawn  breath. 

After  the  repast  was  ended  she  went  back  to  the 
paneled  parlor. 

"You  may  sit  with  me  till  bedtime  if  you  desire, 
Anne,"  she  said,  "but  'twill  be  but  dull  for  you,  as  I 
go  to  sit  at  work.  I  have  some  documents  of  import 
to  examine  and  much  writing  to  do.  I  shall  sit  up 
late."  And  upon  this  she  turned  to  the  lackey  hold- 
ing open  the  door  for  her  passing  through.  "If  be- 
fore half-past  ten  there  comes  a  message  from  Sir  John 
Oxon,"  she  gave  order,  "it  must  be  brought  to  me  at 
once,  but  later  I  must  not  be  disturbed.  It  will  keep 
until  morning." 

Yet  as  she  spoke  there  was  before  her  as  distinct 


A    LADY  OF   QUALITY          257 

a  picture  as  ever  of  that  which  lay  waiting  and  gazing 
in  the  room  to  which  she  went. 

Until  twelve  o'clock  she  sat  at  her  table,  a  despatch- 
box  by  her  side,  papers  outspread  before  her.  Within 
three  feet  of  her  was  the  divan,  but  she  gave  no 
glance  to  it,  sitting  writing,  reading,  and  comparing 
documents. 

At  twelve  o'clock  she  rose  and  rang  the  bell. 

"I  shall  be  later  than  I  thought,"  she  said  when  the 
servant  came.  "I  need  none  of  you  who  are  below 
stairs.  Go  you  all  to  bed.  Tell  my  woman  that  she 
also  may  lie  down.  I  will  ring  when  I  come  to  my 
chamber  and  have  need  of  her.  There  is  yet  no  mes- 
sage from  Sir  John?" 

"None,  my  Lady,"  the  man  answered. 

He  went  away  with  a  relieved  countenance  as  she 
made  no  comment.  He  knew  that  his  fellows  as  well 
as  himself  would  be  pleased  enough  to  be  released 
from  duty  for  the  night.  They  were  a  pampered  lot 
and  had  no  fancy  for  late  hours  when  there  were  no 
great  entertainments  being  held,  which  pleased  them 
and  gave  them  chances  to  receive  vails. 

Mistress  Anne  sat  in  a  large  chair,  huddled  into  a 
small  heap,  and  looking  colorless  and  shrunken.  As 
she  heard  bolts  being  shot  and  bars  put  up  for  the 
closing  of  the  house,  she  knew  that  her  own  dismissal 
was  at  hand ;  doors  were  shut  below  stairs,  and  when 
all  was  done  the  silence  of  night  reigned  as  it  does 
in  all  households  when  those  who  work  have  gone  to 
rest.  'Twas  a  common  thing  enough,  and  yet  this 


258          A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

night  there  was  one  woman  who  felt  the  stillness  so 
deep  that  it  made  her  breathing  seem  a  sound  too  loud. 

"Go  to  bed,  Anne,"  she  said.  "You  have  stayed 
up  too  long." 

Anne  rose  from  her  chair  and  drew  near  to  her.  "Sis- 
ter," said  she  as  she  had  said  before,  "let  me  stay." 

She  was  a  poor,  weak  creature,  and  so  she  looked 
with  her  pale,  insignificant  face  and  dull  eyes,  a  wisp 
of  loose  hair  lying  damp  on  her  forehead.  She  seemed 
indeed  too  weak  a  thing  to  stand  even  for  a  moment 
in  the  way  of  what  must  be  done  this  night,  and  'twas 
almost  irritating  to  be  stopped  by  her. 

"Nay,"  said  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde,  her  beautiful 
brow  knitting  as  she  looked  at  her.  "Go  to  your  cham- 
ber, Anne,  and  to  sleep.  I  must  do  my  work  and  finish 
to-night  what  I  have  begun." 

"But — but,"  Anne  stammered,  dominated  again  and 
made  afraid  as  she  ever  was  by  this  strong  nature,  "in 
this  work  you  must  finish — is  there  not  something  I 
could  do  to — aid  you,  even  in  some  small  and  poor 
way?  Is  there — naught?" 

"Naught,"  answered  Clorinda,  her  form  drawn 
to  its  great  full  height,  her  lustrous  eyes  darkening. 
"What  should  there  be  that  you  could  understand?" 

"Not  some  small  thing,  not  some  poor  thing?" 
Anne  said,  her  fingers  nervously  twisting  each  other, 
so  borne  down  was  she  by  her  awful  timorousness,  for 
awful  it  was  indeed  when  she  saw  clouds  gather  on 
her  sister's  brow.  "I  have  so  loved  you,  sister,  I  have 
so  loved  you  that  my  mind  is  quickened  somehow 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          259 

at  times,  and  I  can  understand  more  than  would  be 
thought — when  I  hope  to  serve  you.  Once  you  said 
— once  you  said — " 

She  knew  not  then,  nor  ever  afterward,  how  it  came 
to  pass  that  in  that  moment  she  found  herself  swept 
into  her  sister's  white  arms  and  strained  against  her 
breast,  wherein  she  felt  the  wild  heart  bounding — nor 
could  she,  not  being  given  to  subtle  reasoning,  have 
comprehended  the  almost  fierce  kiss  on  her  cheek  nor 
the  hot  drops  that  wet  it. 

"I  said  that  I  believed  that  if  you  saw  me  commit 
murder,"  Clorinda  cried,  "you  would  love  me  still,  and 
be  my  friend  and  comforter — " 

"I  would,  I  would,"  cried  Anne. 

"And  I  believe  your  word,  poor  faithful  soul,  I  do 
believe  it,"  my  Lady  said,  and  kissed  her  hard  again, 
but  the  next  instant  set  her  free  and  laughed.  "But 
'  you  will  not  be  put  to  the  test,"  she  said,  "for  I  have 
done  none.  And  in  two  days'  time  my  Gerald  will 
be  here  and  I  shall  be  safe — saved  and  happy  for  ever- 
more— for  evermore.  There,  leave  me!  I  would  be 
alone  and  end  my  work." 

And  she  went  back  to  her  table  and  sat  beside  it, 
taking  her  pen  to  write,  and  Anne  knew  that  she  dare 
say  no  more,  and,  turning,  went  slowly  from  the  room, 
seeing  for  her  last  sight  as  she  passed  through  the 
doorway  the  erect  and  splendid  figure  at  its  task,  the 
light  from  the  candelabrum  shining  upon  the  rubies 
round  the  snow-white  neck  and  wreathed  about  the 
tower  of  raven  hair  like  lines  of  crimson. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

A  PITEOUS  STORY  IS  TOLD,  AND  THE  OLD  CELLARS 

WALLED    IN 

IT  is  indeed  strangely  easy  in  the  great  world  for 
a  man  to  lose  his  importance,  and  from  having  been 
the  target  for  all  eyes  and  the  subject  of  all  conver- 
sation, to  step  from  his  place  or  find  it  so  taken  by 
some  rival  that  it  would  seem,  judging  from  the  gen- 
eral obliviousness  to  him,  that  he  had  never  existed. 
But  few  years  before  no  fashionable  gathering  would 
have  been  felt  complete  had  it  not  been  graced  by  the 
presence  of  the  young  and  fascinating  Lovelace,  Sir 
John  Oxon.  Women  favored  him  and  men  made  them- 
selves his  boon  companions,  his  wit  was  repeated,  the 
fashion  of  his  hair  and  the  cut  of  his  waistcoat  copied. 
He  was  at  first  rich  and  gay  enough  to  be  courted  and 
made  a  favorite,  but  when  his  fortune  was  squandered 
and  his  marriage  with  the  heiress  came  to  naught, 
those  qualities  which  were  vicious  and  base  in  him 
were  more  easy  to  be  seen.  Besides,  there  came  new 
male  beauties  and  new  dandies  with  greater  resources 
and  more  of  prudence,  and  these  beginning  to  set  fash- 
260 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          261 

ions,  win  ladies'  hearts,  and  make  conquests,  so  drew 
the  attention  of  the  public  mind  that  he  was  less  no- 
ticeable, being  only  one  of  many,  instead  of  ruling 
singly  as  it  had  seemed  that  by  some  strange  chance 
he  did  at  first.  There  were  indeed  so  many  stories 
told  of  his  light  ways  that  their  novelty  being  worn 
off  and  new  ones  still  repeated,  such  persons  as  con- 
cerned themselves  with  matters  of  reputation,  either 
through  conscience  or  policy,  began  to  speak  of  him 
with  less  warmth  or  leniency. 

"  'Tis  not  well  for  a  matron  with  daughters  to  marry, 
and  with  sons  to  keep  an  eye  to,"  was  said,  "to  have 
in  her  household  too  often  a  young  gentleman  who 
has  squandered  his  fortune  in  dice  and  drink  and  wild 
living,  and  who  'twas  known  was  cast  off  by  a  repu- 
table young  lady  of  fortune." 

So  there  were  fine  ladies  who  began  to  avoid  him, 
and  those  in  power  at  Court  and  in  the  world  who 
regarded  him  with  lessening  favor  day  by  day.  In 
truth,  he  had  such  debts,  and  his  creditors  pressed 
him  so  ceaselessly,  that  even  had  the  world's  favor 
continued,  his  life  must  have  changed  its  aspect  greatly. 
His  lodgings  were  no  longer  the  most  luxurious,  in  the 
fashionable  part  of  the  town,  his  brocades  and  laces 
were  no  longer  of  the  richest,  nor  his  habit  of  the 
very  latest  and  most  modish  cut;  he  had  no  more  an 
equipage  attracting  every  eye  as  he  drove  forth,  nor 
a  gentleman's  gentleman  whose  swagger  and  pomp 
outdid  that  of  all  others  of  his  world.  Soon  after 
the  breaking  off  his  marriage  with  the  heiress,  his 


262          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

mother  had  died,  and  his  relatives  being  few  and 
those  of  an  order  strictly  averse  to  the  habits  of  ill- 
provided  and  extravagant  kinsmen,  he  had  but  few 
family  ties.  Other  ties  he  had,  'twas  true,  but  they 
were  not  such  as  were  accounted  legal  or  worthy  of 
attention  either  by  himself  or  those  related  to  him. 

So  it  befell  that  when  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde's 
lackey  could  not  find  him  at  his  lodgings,  and  as  the 
days  went  past,  neither  his  landlady  nor  his  creditors 
beheld  him  again,  his  absence  from  the  scene  was  not 
considered  unaccountable  by  them,  nor  did  it  attract 
the  notice  it  would  have  done  in  times  gone  by. 

"He  hath  made  his  way  out  of  England  to  escape 
us,"  said  the  angry  tailors  and  mercers  who  had  be- 
sieged his  door  in  vain  for  months,  and  who  were 
now  infuriated  at  the  thought  of  their  own  easiness 
and  the  impudent,  gay  airs  which  had  befooled  them. 
"A  good  four  hundred  pounds  of  mine  hath  he  car- 
ried with  him,"  said  one.  "And  two  hundred  of 
mine."  "And  more  of  mine,  since  I  am  a  poor  man 
to  whom  a  pound  means  twenty  guineas."  "We  are 
all  robbed,  and  he  has  cheated  the  debtors'  prison, 
wherein,  if  we  had  not  been  fools,  he  would  have  been 
clapped  six  months  ago." 

"Think  ye  he  will  not  come  back,  gentlemen?" 
quavered  his  landlady.  "God  knows  when  I  have 
seen  a  guinea  of  his  money,  but  he  was  such  a  hand- 
some, fine  young  nobleman,  and  had  such  a  way  with 
a  poor  body — and  ever  a  smile  and  a  chuck  o'  the 
chin  for  my  Jenny." 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY         263 

"Look'  well  after  your  Jenny  if  he  hath  left  her  be- 
hind," said  the  tailor. 

He  did  not  come  back  indeed,  and  hearing  the  ru- 
mor that  he  had  fled  his  creditors  the  world  of  fashion 
received  the  news  with  small  disturbance,  all  modish 
persons  being  at  that  time  much  engaged  in  discussion 
of  the  approaching  nuptials  of  her  Ladyship  of  Dun- 
stanwolde  and  the  Duke  of  Osmonde.  Close  upon 
the  discussions  of  the  preparations  came  the  nuptials 
themselves,  and  then  all  the  town  was  agog  and  had 
small  leisure  to  think  of  other  things.  For  those  who 
were  bidden  to  the  ceremonials  and  attendant  enter- 
tainments, there  were  rich  habits  and  splendid  robes 
to  be  prepared,  and  to  those  who  had  not  been  bidden 
there  were  bitter  disappointments  and  thwarted  wishes 
to  think  of. 

"Sir  John  Oxon  has  fled  England  to  escape  seeing 
and  hearing  it  all,"  was  said. 

"He  has  fled  to  escape  something  more  painful  than 
the  spleen,"  others  answered.  "He  had  reached  his 
rope's  end,  and  finding  that  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde 
was  not  of  a  mind  to  lengthen  it  with  her  fortune, 
having  taken  a  better  man,  and  that  his  creditors  would 
have  no  more  patience,  he  showed  them  a  light  pair 
of  heels." 

Before  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde  left  her  house  she 
gave  orders  that  it  be  set  in  order  for  closing  for 
some  time,  having  it  on  her  mind  that  she  should 
not  soon  return.  It  was,  however,  to  be  left  in  such 
condition  that  at  any  moment,  should  she  wish  to 


264          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

come  to  it,  all  could  be  made  ready  in  two  days'  time. 
To  this  end,  various  repairs  and  changes  she  had 
planned  were  to  be  carried  out  as  soon  as  she  went 
away  from  it  Among  other  things  was  the  closing 
with  brickwork  of  the  entrance  to  the  passage  lead- 
ing to  the  unused  cellars. 

"  Twill  make  the  servants'  part  more  wholesome 
and  less  damp  and  drafty,"  she  said,  "and  if  I 
should  sell  the  place  will  be  to  its  advantage.  'Twas 
a  builder  with  little  wit  who  planned  such  passages 
and  black  holes.  In  spite  of  all  the  lime  spread  there, 
they  were  ever  moldy  and  of  evil  odor." 

It  was  her  command  that  there  should  be  no  time 
lost,  and  the  day  before  her  departure  from  the  house, 
men  were  already  at  work,  carrying  bricks  and  mortar. 
It  so  chanced  that  one  of  them  going  in  through  a 
back  entrance  with  a  hod  over  his  shoulder,  and  being 
young  and  lively,  found  his  eye  caught  by  the  coun- 
tenance of  a  pretty,  frightened-looking  girl  who 
seemed  to  be  loitering  about  watching,  as  if  curious 
or  anxious. 

Seeing  her  near  each  time  he  passed,  and  observ- 
ing that  she  wished  to  speak,  but  was  too  timid,  he 
addressed  her: 

"Would  you  know  aught,  mistress?"  he  said. 

She  drew  nearer  gratefully,  and  then  he  saw  her 
eyes  were  red  as  if  with  weeping. 

"Think  you  her  Ladyship  would  let  a  poor  girl 
speak  a  word  with  her  ?"  she  said.  "Think  you  I  dare 
ask  so  much  of  a  servant?  or  would  they  flout  me  and 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY         265 

turn  me  from  the  door?  Have  you  seen  her?  Does 
she  look  like  a  hard,  shrewish  lady?" 

"That  she  does  not,  though  all  stand  in  awe  of  her," 
he  answered,  pleased  to  talk  with  so  pretty  a  creature. 
"I  but  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  when  she  gave  orders 
concerning  the  closing  with  brick  of  a  passageway 
below.  She  is  a  tall  lady,  and  grand  and  stately,  but 
she  hath  a  soft  pair  of  eyes  as  ever  man  would  wish 
to  look  into— be  he  duke  or  ditcher." 

The   tears  began   to   run  down   the  girl's   cheeks. 

"Aye !"  she  said,  "all  men  love  her,  they  say.  Many 
a  poor  girl's  sweetheart  has  been  false  through  her — 
and  I  thought  she  was  cruel  and  ill-natured.  Know 
you  the  servants  that  wait  on  her?  Would  you  dare 
to  ask  one  for  me,  if  he  thinks  she  would  deign 
to  see  a  poor  girl  who  would  crave  the  favor  to  be 
allowed  to  speak  to  her  of  —  of  a  gentleman  she 
knows  ?" 

"There  are  but  lackeys,  and  I  would  dare  to  ask 
what  was  in  my  mind,"  he  answered,  "but  she  is  near 
her  wedding  day,  and  little  as  I  know  of  brides'  ways, 
I  am  of  the  mind  that  she  will  not  like  to  be  troubled." 

"That  I  stand  in  fear  of,"  she  said;  "but  oh!  I 
pray  you,  ask  some  one  of  them — a  kindly  one — " 

The  young  man  looked  aside.  "Luck  is  with  you," 
he  said.  "Here  comes  one  now  to  air  himself  in  the 
sun,  having  naught  else  to  do.  Here  is  a  young  woman 
who  would  speak  with  her  Ladyship,"  he  said  to  the 
strapping  powdered  fellow. 

"She  had  best  begone,"  the  lackey  answered,  striding 

12  VOL.    2 


266          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

toward  the  applicant.  "Think  you  my  Lady  has  time, 
the  day  before  she  goes  to  church  with  her  bride- 
groom, to  receive  traipsing  wenches?" 

"  'Twas  only  for  a  moment  I  asked,"  the  girl  said. 
"I  come  from — I  would  speak  to  her  of — of  Sir  John 
Oxon — whom  she  knows." 

The  man's  face  changed.     It  was  Jenfry. 

"Sir  John  Oxon,"  he  said.  "Then  I  will  ask  her. 
Had  you  said  any  other  name,  I  would  not  have  gone 
near  her  to-day." 

Her  Ladyship  was  in  her  new  closet  with  Mistress 
Anne,  and  there  the  lackey  came  to  her  to  deliver  his 
errand. 

"A  country-bred  young  woman,  your  Ladyship," 
he  said,  "comes  from  Sir  John  Oxon — " 

"From  Sir  John  Oxon!"  cried  Anne,  starting  in 
her  chair. 

My  Lady  Dunstanwolde  made  no  start,  but  turned 
a  steady  countenance  toward  the  door,  looking  into 
the  man's  face. 

"Then  he  hath  returned?"  she  said. 

"Returned!"  said  Anne. 

"After  the  morning  he  rode  home  with  me,"  my 
Lady  answered,  "  'twas  said  he  went  away.  He  left 
his  lodgings  without  warning.  It  seems  he  hath  come 
back.  What  does  the  woman  want?"  she  ended. 

"To  speak  with  your  Ladyship,"  replied  the  man, 
"of  Sir  John  himself,  she  says." 

"Bring  her  to  me,"  her  Ladyship  commanded. 

The  girl  was  brought  in  overawed  and  trembling. 


A   LADY    IF    QUALITY         267 

She  was  a  country-bred  young  creature,  as  the  lackey 
had  said,  being  of  the  simple  rose  and  white  freshness 
of  seventeen  years  perhaps,  and  having  innocent  blue 
eyes  and  fair  curling  locks. 

She  was  so  frightened  by  the  grandeur  of  her  sur- 
roundings and  the  splendid  beauty  of  the  lady  who 
was  so  soon  to  be  a  duchess,  and  was  already  a  great 
earl's  widow,  that  she  could  only  stand  within  the 
doorway,  courtesying  and  trembling  with  tears  welling 
in  her  eyes. 

"Be  not  afraid,"  said  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde. 
"Come  hither,  child,  and  tell  me  what  you  want."  In- 
deed, she  did  not  look  a  hard  or  shrewish  lady,  she 
spoke  as  gently  as  woman  could,  and  a  mildness  so  un- 
expected produced  in  the  young  creature  such  a  revul- 
sion of  feeling  that  she  made  a  few  steps  forward 
and  fell  upon  her  knees,  weeping  and  with  uplifted 
hands. 

"My  Lady,"  she  said,  "I  know  not  how  I  dared  to 
come,  but  that  I  am  so  desperate — and  your  Ladyship 
being  so  happy  it  seemed — it  seemed  that  you  might 
pity  me,  who  am  so  helpless  and  know  not  what  to 
do." 

Her  Ladyship  leaned  forward  in  her  chair,  her 
elbow  on  her  knee,  her  chin  held  in  her  hand,  to 
gaze  at  her. 

"You  come  from  Sir  John  Oxon?"  she  said. 

Anne,  watching,  clutched  each  arm  of  her  chair. 

"Not  from  him,  asking  your  Ladyship's  pardon," 
said  the  child.  "But — but — from  the  country  to  him," 


268          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

her  head  falling  on  her  breast,  "and  I  know  not  where 
he  is." 

"You  came  to  him?"  asked  my  Lady.  "Are  you," 
and  her  voice  was  pitiful  and  slow,  "are  you  one  of 
those  whom  he  has — ruined?" 

The  little  suppliant  looked  up  with  widening  orbs. 

"How  could  that  be  and  he  so  virtuous  and  pious 
a  gentleman?"  she  faltered. 

Then  did  my  Lady  rise  with  a  sudden  movement. 

"Was  he  so?"  says  she. 

"Had  he  not  been,"  the  child  answered,  "my  mother 
would  have  been  afraid  to  trust  him.  I  am  but  a 
poor  country  widow's  daughter,  but  was  well  brought 
up  and  honestly — and  when  he  came  to  our  village 
my  mother  was  afraid  because  he  was  a  gentleman; 
but  when  she  saw  his  piety  and  how  he  went  to  church 
and  sang  the  psalms  and  prayed  for  grace,  she  let  me 
listen  to  him." 

"Did  he  go  to  church  and  sing  and  pray  at  first?" 
my  Lady  asks. 

"  'Twas  in  church  he  saw  me,  your  Ladyship,"  she 
was  answered.  "He  said  'twas  his  custom  to  go  al- 
ways when  he  came  to  a  new  place,  and  that  often 
there  he  found  the  most  heavenly  faces,  for  'twas 
piety  and  innocence  that  made  a  face  like  to  an 
angel's.  And  'twas  innocence  and  virtue  stirred  his 
heart  to  love  and  not  mere  beauty,  which  so  fades." 

"Go  on,  innocent  thing,"  my  Lady  said,  and  she 
turned  aside  to  Anne,  flashing  from  her  eyes  unseen 
a  great  blaze,  and  speaking  in  a  low  and  hurried 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          269 

voice.  "God's  house/'  she  said,  "God's  prayers — 
God's  songs  of  praise,  he  used  them  all  to  break  a 
tender  heart,  and  bring  an  innocent  life  to  ruin — and 
yet  was  he  not  struck  dead!" 

Anne  hid  her  face  and  shuddered. 

"He  was  a  gentleman,"  the  poor  young  thing  cried, 
sobbing,  "and  I  no  fit  match  for  him,  but  that  he  loved 
me.  'Tis  said  love  makes  all  equal,  and  he  said  I  was 
the  sweetest,  innocent  young  thing,  and  without  me  he 
could  not  live.  And  he  told  my  mother  that  he  was 
not  rich  or  the  fashion  now,  and  had  no  modish 
friends  or  relations  to  flout  any  poor  beauty  he  might 
choose  to  wed.'* 

"And  he  would  marry  you,"  my  Lady's  voice  broke 
in;  "he  said  that  he  would  marry  you?" 

"A  thousand  times,  your  Ladyship,  and  so  told  my 
mother,  but  said  I  must  come  to  town  and  be  married 
at  his  lodgings,  or  'twould  not  be  counted  a  marriage 
by  law,  he  being  a  town  gentleman  and  I  from  the 
country." 

"And  you  came,"  said  Mistress  Anne,  down  whose 
pale  cheeks  the  tears  were  running — "you  came  at  his 
command  to  follow  him?" 

"What  day  came  you  up  to  town?"  demands  my 
Lady,  breathless  and  leaning  forward.  "Went  you 
to  his  lodgings  and  stayed  you  there  with  him — even 
for  an  hour?" 

The  poor  child  gazed  at  her,  paling. 

"He  was  not  there !"  she  cried.  "I  came  alone  be- 
cause he  said  all  must  be  secret  at  first,  and  my  heart 


270         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

beat  so  with  joy,  my  Lady,  that  when  the  woman  of 
the  house  whereat  he  lodges  let  me  in,  I  scarce  could 
speak.  But  she  was  a  merry  woman  and  good- 
natured,  and  only  laughed  and  cheered  me  when  she 
took  me  to  his  rooms,  and  I  sat  trembling." 

"What  said  she  to  you?"  my  Lady  asks,  her  breast 
heaving  with  her  breath. 

"That  he  was  not  yet  in,  but  that  he  would  sure 
come  soon  to  such  a  young  and  pretty  thing  as  I, 
and  I  must  wait  for  him;  for  he  would  not  forgive 
her  if  she  let  me  go.  And  the  while  I  waited  there 
came  a  man  in  bands  and  cassock,  but  he  had  not  a 
holy  look,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  I  heard  him  mak- 
ing jokes  with  the  woman  outside,  and  they  both 
laughed  in  such  an  evil  way  that  I  was  affrighted,  and, 
waiting  till  they  had  gone  to  another  part  of  the 
house,  stole  away." 

"But  he  came  not  back  that  night — thank  God!" 
my  Lady  said.  "He  came  not  back!" 

The  girl  rose  from  her  knees  trembling,  her  hands 
clasped  on  her  breast. 

"Why  should  your  Ladyship  thank  God?"  she  said, 
pure  drops  falling  from  her  eyes.  "I  am  so  humble 
and  had  naught  else  but  this  great  happiness,  and  it 
was  taken  away — and  you  thank  God?" 

Then  drops  fell  from  my  Lady's  eyes  also,  and  she 
came  forward  and  caught  the  child's  hand  and  held 
it  close  and  warm  and  strong,  and  yet  with  her  full 
lip  quivering. 

"  'Twas  not  that  your  joy  was  taken  away  that 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          271 

I  thanked  God,"  said  she.  "I  am  not  cruel — God  him- 
self knows  that,  and  when  He  smites  me  'twill  not 
be  for  cruelty.  I  knew  not  what  I  said,  and  yet — 
Tell  me,  what  did  you  then?  Tell  me." 

"I  went  to  a  poor  house  to  lodge,  having  some  little 
money  he  had  given  me,"  the  simple  young  thing  an- 
swered. "  'Twas  an  honest  house,  though  mean  and 
comfortless.  And  the  next  day  I  went  back  to  his 
lodgings  to  question,  but  he  had  not  come  and  I  would 
not  go  in,  though  the  woman  tried  to  make  me  enter, 
saying  Sir  John  would  surely  return  soon,  as  he  had 
the  day  before  rid  with  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde  and 
been  to  her  house,  and  'twas  plain  he  had  meant  to 
come  to  his  lodgings,  for  her  Ladyship  had  sent  her 
lackey  thrice  with  a  message. 

The  hand  with  which  Mistress  Anne  sat  covering 
her  eyes  began  to  shake,  my  Lady's  own  hand  would 
have  shaken  had  she  not  been  so  strong  a  creature. 

"And  he  has  not  yet  returned,  then?"  she  asked. 
"You  have  not  seen  him?" 

The  girl  shook  her  fair  locks,  weeping  with  piteous 
little  sobs. 

"He  has  not,"  she  cried,  "and  I  know  not  what  to 
do — and  the  great  town  seems  full  of  evil  men  and 
wicked  women.  I  know  not  which  way  to  turn,  for 
all  plot  wrong  against  me,  and  would  drag  me  down 
to  shamefulness — and  back  to  my  poor  mother  I  can 
not  go." 

"Wherefore  not,  poor  child?"  my  Lady  asked  her. 

"I  have  not  been  made  an  honest  wedded  woman, 


272         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

and  none  would  believe  my  story  and — and  he  might 
come  back." 

"And  if  he  came  back?"  said  her  Ladyship. 

At  this  question  the  girl  slipped  from  her  grasp 
and  down  upon  her  knees  again,  catching  at  her  rich 
petticoat  and  holding  it,  her  eyes  searching  the  great 
lady's  in  imploring  piteousness,  her  own  streaming. 

"I  love  him,"  she  wept,  "I  love  him  so— I  can  not 
leave  the  place  where  he  might  be.  He  was  so  beauti- 
ful and  grand  a  gentleman,  and  sure  he  loved  me  bet- 
ter than  all  else — and  I  can  not  thrust  away  from  me 
that  last  night  when  he  held  me  to  his  breast  near  our 
cottage  door — and  the  nightingale  sang  in  the  roses, 
and  he  spake  such  words  to  me.  I  lie  and  sob  all 
night  on  my  hard  pillow,  I  so  long  to  see  him  and  to 
hear  his  voice — and  hearing  he  had  been  with  you 
that  last  morning,  I  dared  to  come,  praying  that  you 
might  have  heard  him  let  drop  some  word  that  would 
tell  me  where  he  may  be ;  for  I  can  not  go  away  think- 
ing he  may  come  back  longing  for  me — and  I  lose  him 
and  never  see  his  face  again.  Oh!  my  Lady,  my 
Lady,  this  place  is  so  full  of  wickedness  and  fierce  peo- 
ple— and  dark  kennels  where  crimes  are  done — I  am 
affrighted  for  him,  thinking  he  may  have  been  struck 
some  blow — and  murdered — and  hid  away.  And  none 
will  look  for  him  but  one  who  loves  him — who  loves 
him!  Could  it  be  so?  Could  it  be?  You  know  the 
town's  ways  so  well.  I  pray  you,  tell  me,  in  God's 
name  I  pray  you!" 

"God's  mercy!"  Anne  breathed,  and  from  behind 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          273 

her  hands  came  stifled  sobbing.  My  Lady  of  Dunstan- 
wolde  bent  down,  her  color  dying. 

"Nay,  nay,"  she  said,  "there  has  been  no  murder 
done — none!  Hush,  poor  thing,  hush  thee.  There  is 
somewhat  I  must  tell  thee." 

She  tried  to  raise  her,  but  the  child  would  not  be 
raised  and  clung  to  her  rich  robe,  shaking  as  she  knelt, 
gazing  upward. 

"It  is  a  bitter  thing,"  my  Lady  said,  and  'twas  as 
if  her  own  eyes  were  imploring.  "God  help  you  bear 
it,  God  help  us  all.  He  told  me  nothing  of  his  journey. 
I  knew  not  he  was  about  to  take  it,  but  wheresoever 
he  has  traveled,  'twas  best  that  he  should  go." 

"Nay!  Nay!"  the  girl  cried  out.  "To  leave  me 
helpless.  Nay,  it  could  not  be  so.  He  loved  me — 
loved  me — as  the  great  duke  loves  you !" 

"He  meant  you  evil,"  said  my  Lady,  shuddering 
and  yet  with  passion,  "and  evil  he  would  have  done 
you.  He  was  a  villain — a  villain  who  meant  to  trick 
you.  Had  God  struck  him  dead  that  day  'twould  have 
been  mercy  to  you.  I  knew  him  well." 

The  young  thing  gave  a  bitter  cry  and  fell  swoon- 
ing at  her  feet,  and  down  upon  her  knees  my  Lady 
went  beside  her,  loosening  her  gown  and  chafing  her 
poor  hands  as  though  they  two  had  been  of  sister 
blood. 

"Call  for  hartshorn,  Anne,  and  for  water,"  she  said. 
"She  will  come  out  of  her  swooning,  poor  child,  and 
if  she  is  cared  for  kindly,  in  time  her  pain  will  pass 
away.  God  be  thanked  she  has  no  pain  that  can  not 


274         &  LADY   OF  QUALITY 

pass!    I  will  protect  her — aye,  that  will  I,  as  I  will 
protect  all  he  has  done  wrong  to  and  deserted." 


She  was  so  strangely  kind  through  the  poor  vic- 
tim's swoons  and  weeping  that  the  very  menials  who 
were  called  to  aid  her  went  back  to  their  hall,  won- 
dering in  their  talk  of  the  noble  grandness  of  so  great 
a  lady,  who,  on  the  very  brink  of  her  own  joy,  could 
stoop  to  protect  and  comfort  a  creature  so  far  beneath 
her,  that  to  most  ladies  her  sorrow  and  desertion  would 
have  been  things  which  were  too  trivial  to  count;  for 
'twas  guessed  and  talked  over  with  great  freedom  and 
much  shrewdness  that  this  was  a  country  victim  of  Sir 
John  Oxon's,  and  he,  having  deserted  his  creditors, 
was  ready  enough  to  desert  his  rustic  beauty,  finding 
her  heavy  on  his  hands. 

Below  stairs  the  men  closing  the  entrance  to  the 
passage  with  brick,  having  caught  snatches  of  the  ser- 
vants' gossip,  talked  of  what  they  heard  themselves  as 
they  did  their  work. 

"Aye,  a  noble  lady  indeed,"  they  said.  "For  'tis 
not  a  woman's  way  to  be  kindly  with  the  cast-off  fancy 
of  a  man,  even  when  she  does  not  want  him  herself. 
He  was  her  own  worshiper  for  many  a  day,  Sir  John ; 
and  before  she  took  the  old  Earl,  'twas  said  that  for 
a  space  people  believed  she  loved  him.  She  was  but 
fifteen  and  a  high  mettled  beauty,  and  he  as  handsome 
as  she,  and  had  a  blue  eye  that  would  melt  any  woman ; 
but  at  sixteen  he  was  a  town  rake — and  such  tricks 
as  this  one  he  had  played  since  he  was  a  lad.  "Tis 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY         275 

well  indeed  for  this  poor  thing  her  Ladyship  hath 
seen  her.  She  hath  promised  to  protect  her,  and  sends 
her  down  to  Dunstanwolde  with  her  mother  this  very 
week.  Would  all  fine  ladies  were  of  her  kind.  To 
hear  such  things  of  her  puts  a  man  in  the  humor  to 
do  her  work  well." 


CHAPTER    XX 

A     NOBLE     MARRIAGE 

WHEN  the  Duke  came  back  from  France  and  to  pay 
his  first  eager  visit  to  his  bride  that  was  to  be,  her 
Ladyship's  lackeys  led  him  not  to  the  paneled  parlor, 
but  to  a  room  which  he  had  not  entered  before,  it 
being  one  she  had  had  the  fancy  to  have  remodeled 
and  made  into  a  beautiful  closet  for  herself,  her  great 
wealth  rendering  it  possible  for  her  to  accomplish 
changes  without  the  loss  of  time  the  owners  of  lim- 
ited purses  are  subjected  to  in  the  carrying  out  of 
plans.  This  room  she  had  made  as  unlike  the  pan- 
eled parlor  as  two  rooms  would  be  unlike  one  another. 
Its  panelings  were  white,  its  furnishings  were  bright 
and  delicate,  its  draperies  flowered  with  rosebuds  tied 
in  clusters,  with  love-knots  of  pink  and  blue;  it  had 
a  large  bow  window,  through  which  the  sunlight 
streamed,  and  it  was  blooming  with  great  rose-bowls 
overrunning  with  sweetness. 

From  a  seat  in  the  morning  sunshine  among  the 

flowers  and  plants  in  the  bow  window  there  rose  a 

tall  figure  in  a  snow-white  robe — a  figure  like  that  of 

a  beautiful,  stately  girl  who  was  half  an  angel.     It 

276 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY         277 

was  my  Lady  who  came  to  him  with  blushing  cheeks 
and  radiant,  shining  eyes,  and  was  swept  into  his 
arms  in  such  a  passion  of  love  and  blessed  tenderness 
as  Heaven  itself  might  have  smiled  to  see. 

"My  love!  my  love!"  he  breathed.  "My  love!  my 
love  and  my  soul!" 

"My  Gerald !"  she  cried ;  "my  Gerald,  let  me  say  it 
on  your  breast  a  thousand  times !" 

"My  wife!"  he  said,  "so  soon  my  wife  and  all  my 
own  until  life's  end." 

"Nay,  nay!"  she  cried,  her  cheek  pressed  to  his 
own,  "through  all  eternity,  for  love's  life  knows 
no  end." 

As  it  had  seemed  to  her  poor  lord  who  had  died, 
so  it  seemed  to  this  man  who  lived  and  so  worshiped 
her  that  the  wonder  of  her  sweetness  was  a  thing  to 
marvel  at  with  passionate  reverence.  Being  a  man  of 
greater  mind  and  poetic  imagination  than  Dunstan- 
wolde,  and  being  himself  adored  by  her  as  that  poor 
gentleman  had  not  had  the  good  fortune  to  be,  he  had 
ten  thousand-fold  the  power  and  reason  to  see  the 
tender  radiance  of  her.  As  she  was  taller  than  other 
women,  so  her  love  seemed  higher  and  greater,  and 
as  free  from  any  touch  of  earthly  poverty  of  feeling 
as  her  beauty  was  from  any  flaw.  In  it  there  could 
be  no  doubt,  no  pride;  it  could  be  bounded  by  no 
limit,  measured  by  no  rule,  its  depths  sounded  by  no 
plummet. 

His  very  soul  was  touched  by  her  great  longing  to 
give  to  him  the  feeling,  and  to  feel  herself,  that  from 


278          A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

the  hour  that  she  had  become  his  her  past  life  was 
a  thing  blotted  out. 

"I  am  a  new-created  thing,"  she  said.  "Until  you 
called  me  'Love'  I  had  no  life.  All  before  was  dark- 
ness. 'Twas  you,  my  Gerald,  who  said,  'Let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light.'  " 

"Hush,  hush, .  sweet  love,"  he  said.  "Your  words 
would  make  me  too  near  God's  self." 

"Sure  love  is  God,"  she  cried,  her  hands  upon  his 
shoulders,  her  face  uplifted.  "What  else?  Love  we 
know,  love  we  worship  and  kneel  to — love  conquers 
us  and  gives  us  heaven.  Until  I  knew  it  I  believed 
naught.  Now  I  kneel  each  night  and  pray  and  pray 
but  to  be  pardoned  and  made  worthy." 

Never  before,  it  was  true,  had  she  knelt  and  prayed, 
but  from  this  time  no  nun  in  her  convent  knelt  oftener 
or  prayed  more  ardently,  and  her  prayer  was  ever  that 
the  past  might  be  forgiven  her,  the  future  blessed,  and 
she  taught  how  so  to  live  that  there  should  be  no  faint- 
est shadow  in  the  years  to  come. 

"I  know  not  what  is  above  me,"  she  said.  "I  can 
not  lie  and  say  I  love  it  and  believe,  but  if  there  is 
aught,  sure  it  must  be  a  power  which  is  great,  else  had 
the  world  not  been  so  strange  a  thing  and  I,  and  those 
who  live  on  it,  and  if  He  made  us,  He  must  know  He 
is  to  blame  when  He  has  made  us  weak  or  evil.  And 
He  must  understand  why  we  have  been  so  made,  and 
when  we  throw  ourselves  into  the  dust  before  Him 
and  pray  for  help  and  pardon,  surely,  surely,  He  will 
lend  an  ear!  We  know  naught;  we  have  been  told 


A  LADY  OF  QUALITY         279 

naught;  we  have  but  an  old  book,  which  has  been 
handed  down  through  strange  hands  and  strange 
tongues,  and  may  be  but  poor  history.  We  have  so 
little,  and  we  are  threatened  so — but  for  love's  sake 
I  will  pray  the  poor  prayers  we  are  given,  and  for 
love's  sake  there  is  no  dust  too  low  for  me  to  lie  in 
while  I  plead." 

This  was  the  strange  truth  —  though  'twas  not 
so  strange  if  the  world  feared  not  to  admit  such 
things  —  that  through  her  Gerald,  who  was  but  no- 
ble and  high-souled  man,  she  was  led  to  bow 
before  God's  throne  as  the  humblest  and'  holiest 
saint  bows,  though  she  had  not  learned  belief  and 
only  had  learned  love. 

"But  life  lasts  so  short  a  while,"  she  said  to  Os- 
monde.  "It  seems  so  short  when  it  is  spent  in  such 
joy  as  this ;  and  when  the  day  comes — for,  oh !  Gerald, 
my  soul  sees  it  already — when  the  day  comes  that  I 
kneel  by  your  bedsfde  and  see  your  eyes  close,  or  you 
kneel  by  mine,  it  must  be  that  the  one  who  waits 
behind  shall  know  the  parting  is  not  all." 

"It  could  not  be  all,  beloved,"  Osmonde  said.  "Love 
is  sure  eternal." 

Often  in  these  blissful  hours  her  way  was  almost 
like  a  child's,  she  was  so  tender  and  so  clinging.  At 
times  her  beauteous,  great  eyes  were  full  of  an  im- 
ploring which  made  them  seem  soft  with  tears,  and 
thus  they  were  now  as  she  looked  up  at  him. 

"I  will  do  all  I  can,"  she  said.  "I  will  obey  every 
law;  I  will  pray  often  and  give  alms,  and  strive  to 


28o         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

be  dutiful  and  holy,  that  in  the  end  He  will  not  thrust 
me  from  you ;  that  I  may  stay  near,  even  in  the  low- 
est place — even  in  the  lowest — that  I  may  see  your 
face,  and  know  that  you  see  mine.  We  are  so  in  His 
power.  He  can  do  aught  with  us,  but  I  will  so  obey 
Him,  and  so  pray  that  He  will  let  me  in." 

To  Anne  she  went  with  curious  humility,  question- 
ing her  as  to  her  religious  duties  and  beliefs,  ask- 
ing her  what  books  she  read  and  what  services  she 
attended. 

"All  your  life  you  have  been  a  religious  woman," 
she  said.  "I  used  to  think  it  folly,  but  now — " 

"But  now — "  said  Anne. 

"I  know  not  what  to  think,"  she  answered.  "I 
would  learn." 

But  when  she  listened  to  Anne's  simple  homilies 
and  read  her  weighty  sermons,  they  but  made  her 
restless  and  unsatisfied. 

"Nay,  'tis  not  that,"  she  said,  one  day,  with  a  deep 
sigh.  "  "Pis  more  than  that — 'tis  deeper  and  greater, 
and  your  sermons  do  not  hold  it.  They  but  set  my 
brain  to  questioning  and  rebellion." 

But  a  short  time  elapsed  before  the  marriage  was 
solemnized,  and  such  a  wedding  the  world  of  fashion 
had  not  taken  part  in  for  years,  'twas  said.  Royalty 
honored  it,  the  greatest  of  the  land  were  proud  to 
count  themselves  among  the  guests;  the  retainers, 
messengers,  and  company  of  the  two  great  houses  were 
so  numerous  that  in  the  west  end  of  the  town  the 
streets  wore  indeed  quite  a  festal  air,  with  the  passing 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY         281 

to  and  fro  of  servants  and  gentlefolk  with  favors  upon 
their  arms. 

'Twas  to  the  Tower  of  Camylott,  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  remote  of  the  bridegroom's  several  seats,  that 
they  removed  their  household  when  the  irksomeness 
of  the  extended  ceremonies  and  entertainments  was 
over;  for  these  they  were  of  too  distinguished  a  rank 
to  curtail  as  lesser  personages  might  have  done.  But 
when  all  things  were  over,  the  stately  town  houses 
closed,  and  their  equipages  rolled  out  beyond  the  sight 
of  town  into  the  country  roads,  the  great  duke  and 
his  great  duchess  sat  hand  in  hand,  gazing  into  each 
other's  eyes  with  as  simple  and  ardent  a  joy  as  they 
had  been  but  young  'prentice  and  country  maid  flying 
to  hide  from  the  world  their  love. 

"There  is  no  other  woman  who  is  so  like  a  queen," 
Osmonde  said,  with  tenderest  smiling.  "And  yet  your 
eyes  wear  a  look  so  young  in  these  days  that  they  are 
like  a  child's.  In  all  their  beauty  I  have  never  seen 
them  so  before." 

"It  is  because  I  am  a  new-created  thing,  as  I  have 
told  you,  love,"  she  answered,  and  leaned  toward  him. 
"Do  you  not  know  I  never  was  a  child.  I  bring  myself 
to  you  new  born.  Make  of  me  then  what  a  woman 
should  be — to  be  beloved  of  husband  and  of  God. 
Teach  me,  my  Gerald !  I  am  your  child  and  servant." 

'Twas  ever  thus,  that  her  words,  when  they  were 
such  as  these,  were  ended  upon  his  breast  as  she  was 
swept  there  by  his  impassioned  arm.  She  was  so  god- 
dess-like and  beautiful  a  being,  her  life  one  strangely 


282         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

dominant  and  brilliant  series  of  triumphs,  and  yet  she 
came  to  him  with  such  softness  and  humility  of  pas- 
sion that  scarcely  could  he  think  himself  a  waking 
man. 

"Surely,"  he  said,  "it  is  a  thing  too  wondrous  and 
too  full  of  joy's  splendor  to  be  true." 

In  the  golden  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  deepen- 
ing and  mellowing  toward  its  setting,  they  and  their 
retinue  entered  Camylott.  The  bells  pealed  from  the 
gray  belfry  of  the  old  church ;  the  villagers  came  forth 
in  clean  smocks  and  Sunday  cloaks  of  scarlet,  and 
stood  in  the  street  and  by  the  roadside  courtesying 
and  baring  their  heads,  with  rustic  cheers ;  little  coun- 
try girls  with  red  cheeks  threw  posies  before  the 
horses'  feet  and  into  the  equipage  itself  when  they 
were  of  the  bolder  sort.  Their  chariot  passed  be- 
neath archways  of  flowers  and  boughs,  and  from  the 
battlements  of  the  Tower  of  Camylott  there  floated  a 
flag  in  the  soft  wind. 

"God  save  your  Graces,"  the  simple  people  cried. 
"God  give  your  Graces  joy  and  long  life !  Lord,  what 
a  beautiful  pair  they  be!  And  though  her  Grace  was 
said  to  be  a  proud  lady,  how  sweetly  she  smiles  at  a 
poor  body.  God  love  ye,  madam,  God  love  ye !" 

Her  Grace  of  Osmonde  leaned  forward  in  her  equi- 
page and  smiled  at  the  people  with  the  face  of  an 
angel. 

"I  will  teach  them  to  love  me,  Gerald,"  she  said. 
"I  have  not  had  love  enough." 

"Has  not  all  the  world  loved  you  ?"  he  said. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          283 

"Nay,"  she  answered,  "only  you  and  Dunstanwolde 
and  Anne." 

Late  at  night  they  walked  together  on  the  broad 
terrace  before  the  Tower.  The  blue-black  vault  of 
heaven  above  them  was  studded  with  myriads  of  God's 
brilliants;  below  them  was  spread  out  the  beauty  of 
the  land,  the  rolling  plains,  the  soft  low  hills,  the  for- 
ests and  moors  folded  and  hidden  in  the  swathing  robe 
of  the  night;  from  the  park  and  gardens  floated  up- 
ward the  freshness  of  acres  of  thick  sward  and  deep 
fern  thicket,  the  fragrance  of  roses  and  a  thousand 
flowers,  the  tender  sighing  of  the  wind  through  the 
huge  oaks  and  beeches  bordering  the  avenues,  and 
reigning  like  kings  over  the  seeming  boundless  grassy 
spaces. 

As  lovers  have  walked  since  the  days  of  Eden  they 
walked  together,  no  longer  duke  and  duchess,  but  man 
and  woman — near  to  Paradise  as  human  beings  may 
draw  until  God  breaks  the  chain  binding  them  to  earth ; 
and  indeed  it  would  seem  that  such  hours  are  given 
to  the  straining  human  soul  that  it  may  know  that 
somewhere  perfect  joy  must  be,  since  sometimes  the 
gates  are  for  a  moment  opened  that  Heaven's  light 
may  shine  through,  and  human  eyes  catch  glimpses  of 
the  white  and  golden  glories  within. 

His  arm  held  her,  she  leaned  against  him,  their  slow 
steps  so  harmonizing,  the  one  with  the  other,  that  they 
accorded  as  with  the  harmony  of  music;  the  nightin- 
gales trilling  and  bubbling  in  the  rose  trees  were  not 
affrighted  by  the  low  murmur  of  their  voices;  per- 


284         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

chance  this  night  they  were  so  near  to  Nature  that  the 
barriers  were  o'erpassed  and  they  and  the  singers  were 
akin. 

"Oh,  to  be  a  woman!"  Clorinda  murmured.  "To 
be  a  woman  at  last.  All  other  things  I  have  been, 
and  have  been  called  'Huntress/  'Goddess/  'Beauty/ 
'Empress/  'Leader/  'Conqueror'— but  never  Woman. 
And  had  our  paths  not  crossed  I  think  I  never  could 
have  known  what  'twas  to  be  one,  for  to  be  a  woman 
one  must  close  with  the  man  who  is  one's  mate.  It 
must  not  be  that  one  looks  down  or  only  pities  or 
protects  and  guides — and  only  to  a  few  a  mate  seems 
given.  And  I,  Gerald,  how  dare  I  walk  thus  at  your 
side  and  feel  your  heart  so  beat  near  mine,  and  know 
you  love  me — and  so  worship  you — so  worship  you — " 

She  turned  and  threw  herself  upon  his  breast,  which 
was  so  near. 

"Oh,  woman,  woman!"  he  breathed,  straining  her 
close.  "Oh,  woman,  who  is  mine,  though  I  am  but 
man!" 

"We  are  but  one,"  she  said — "one  breath,  one  soul, 
one  thought,  and  one  desire.  Were  it  not  so  I  were 
not  woman  and  your  wife,  nor  you  man  and  my  soul's 
lover  as  you  are.  If  it  were  not  so,  we  were  still  apart, 
though  we  were  wedded  a  thousand  times.  Apart  what 
are  we  but  like  lopped-off  limbs,  welded  together;  we 
are — this." 

And  for  a  moment  they  spoke  not,  and  a  nightin- 
gale on  a  rose-vine  clambering  o'er  the  terrace's  balus- 
trade threw  up  its  little  head  and  sang  as  if  to  the 


A  LADY  OF   QUALITY          285 

myriads  of  golden  stars.  They  stood  and  listened, 
hand  in  hand;  her  sweet  breast  rose  and  fell,  her 
lovely  face  was  lifted  to  the  bespangled  sky. 

"Of  all  this,"  she  said,  "I  am  a  part — as  I  am  part 
of  you.  To-night,  as  the  great  earth  throbs  and  as 
the  stars  tremble  and  as  the  wind  sighs,  so  I — being 
woman — throb  and  am  tremulous  and  sigh  also.  The 
earth  lives  for  the  sun,  and  through  strange  mysteries 
blooms  forth  each  season  with  fruits  and  flowers.  Love 
is  my  sun,  and  through  its  sacredness  I  may  bloom  too 
and  be  as  noble  as  the  earth  and  that  it  bears." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

AN     HEIR    IS     BORN 

'IN  a  fair  tower,  whose  windows  looked  out  upon 
spreading  woods  and  rich,  lovely  plains  stretching  to 
the  freshness  of  the  sea,  Mistress  Anne  had  her  abode, 
which  her  duchess  sister  had  given  to  her  for  her 
own  living  in  as  she  would.  There  she  dwelt  and 
prayed  and  looked  on  at  the  new  life  which  so  beau- 
tifully unfolded  itself  before  her  day  by  day,  as  the 
leaves  of  the  great  tree  unfold  from  buds  and  be- 
come noble  branches  housing  birds  and  their  nests, 
shading  the  earth  and  those  sheltering  beneath  them, 
braving  centuries  of  storms. 

To  this  simile  her  simple  mind  oft  reverted,  for  in- 
deed it  seemed  to  her  that  naught  more  perfect  and 
more  noble  in  its  high  likeness  to  pure  nature  and 
the  fulfilling  of  God's  will  than  the  passing  days  of 
these  two  lives  could  be. 

"As  the  first  two  lived — Adam  and  Eve  in  their 
Garden  of  Eden — they  seem  to  me,"  she  used  to  say 
to  her  own  heart;  ^but  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  was 
not  forbidden  them,  and  it  has  taught  them  naught 
ignoble.*;) 

286 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          287 

As  she  had  been  wont  to  watch  her  sister  from  be- 
hind the  ivy  of  her  chamber  windows,  so  she  often 
watched  her  now,  though  there  was  no  fear  in  her 
hiding,  only  tenderness,  it  being  a  pleasure  to  her  full 
of  wonder  and  reverence  to  see  this  beautiful  and 
stately  pair  go  lovingly  and  in  high  and  gentle  con- 
verse side  by  side,  up  and  down  the  terrace,  through 
the  paths,  among  the  beds  of  flowers,  under  the  thick 
branched  trees,  and  over  the  sward's  softness. 

"It  is  as  if  I  saw  love's  self,  and  dwelt  with  it — the 
love  God's  nature  made,"  she  said  with  gentle  sighs. 

For  if  these  two  had  been  great  and  beauteous  be- 
fore, it  seemed  in  these  days  as  if  life  and  love  glowed 
within  them,  and  shone  through  their  mere  bodies, 
as  a  radiant  light  shines  through  alabaster  lamps.  The 
strength  of  each  was  so  the  being  of  the  other  that 
no  thought  could  take  form  in  the  brain  of  one  with- 
out the  other's  stirring  with  it. 

"Neither  of  us  dares  be  ignoble,"  Osmonde  said, 
"for  'twould  make  poor  and  base  the  one  who  was 
not  so  in  truth." 

"  Twas  not  the  way  of  my  Lady  Dunstanwolde  to 
make  a  man  feel  that  he  stood  in  church,"  a  frivolous 
court  wit  once  said,  "but  in  sooth  her  Grace  of  Os- 
monde has  a  look  in  her  lustrous  eyes  which  accords 
not  with  scandalous  stories  and  playhouse  jests." 

And  true  it  was  that  when  they  went  to  town  they 
carried  with  them  the  illumining  of  the  pure  fire  which 
burned  within  their  souls,  and  bore  it  all  unknowing 
in  the  midst  of  the  trivial  or  designing  world  which 


288         A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

knew  not  what  it  was  that  glowed  about  them,  making 
things  bright  which  had  seemed  dull,  and  revealing 
darkness  where  there  had  been  brilliant  glare. 

They  returned  not  to  the  house  which  had  been  my 
Lord  of  Dunstanwolde's,  but  went  to  the  Duke's  own 
great  manion,  and  there  lived  splendidly  and  in  hos- 
pitable state.  Royalty  honored  them,  and  all  the  wits 
came  there,  some  of  those  gentlemen  who  write  verses 
and  dedications  being  by  no  means  averse  to  meeting 
noble  lords  and  ladies,  and  finding  in  their  loves  and 
graces  material  which  might  be  useful.  'Twas  not 
only  Mr.  Addison  and  Mr.  Steele,  Dr.  Swift  and  Mr. 
Pope,  who  were  made  welcome  in  the  stately  rooms, 
but  others  who  were  more  humble,  not  yet  having 
won  their  spurs;  and  how  these  worshiped  her  Grace 
for  the  generous  kindness  which  was  not  the  fashion, 
until  she  set  it,  among  great  ladies,  their  odes  and 
verses  could  scarce  express. 

"They  are  so  poor,"  she  said  to  her  husband.  "They 
are  so  poor,  and  yet,  in  their  starved  souls  there  is  a 
thing  which  can  less  bear  flouting  than  the  dull  con- 
tent which  rules  in  others.  I  know  not  whether  'tis  a 
curse  or  a  boon  to  be  born  so.  'Tis  a  bitter  thing 
when  the  bird  that  flutters  in  them  has  only  little 
wings.  All  the  more  should  those  who  are  strong 
protect  and  comfort  them." 

She  comforted  so  many  creatures.  In  strange  parts 
of  the  town,  where  no  other  lady  would  have  dared 
to  go  to  give  alms,  it  was  rumored  that  she  went  and 
did  noble  things  privately.  In  dark  kennels,  where 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          289 

thieves  hid  and  vagrants  huddled,  she  carried  her 
beauty  and  her  stateliness,  the  which,  when  they  shone 
on  the  poor  rogues  and  victims  housed  there,  seemed 
like  the  beams  of  the  warm  and  golden  sun. 

Once  in  a  filthy  hovel,  in  a  black  alley,  she  came 
upon  a  poor  girl  dying  of  a  loathsome  ill,  and  as  she 
stood  by  her  bed  of  rags  she  heard  in  her  delirium 
the  uttering  of  one  man's  name  again  and  again,  and 
when  she  questioned  those  about  she  found  that  the 
sufferer  had  been  a  little  country  wench  enticed  to 
town  by  this  man  for  a  plaything,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
cast  off,  to  give  birth  to  a  child  in  the  almshouse,  and 
then  go  down  to  the  depths  of  vice  in  the  kennel. 

"What  is  the  name  she  says?"  her  Grace  asked  the 
hag  nearest  to  her,  and  least  maudlin  with  liquor.  "I 
would  be  sure  I  heard  it  aright." 

"  'Tis  the  name  of  a  gentleman,  your  Ladyship  may 
be  sure,"  the  beldame  answered ;  "  'tis  always  the  name 
of  a  gentleman.  And  this  is  one  I  know  well,  for  I 
have  heard  more  than  one  poor  soul  mumbling  it  and 
raving  at  him  in  her  last  hours.  One  there  was,  and 
I  knew  her,  a  pretty  rosy  thing  in  her  country  days, 
not  sixteen,  and  distraught  with  love  for  him,  and  lay 
in  the  street  by  his  door,  praying  him  to  take  her  back 
when  he  threw  her  off,  until  the  watch  drove  her  away. 
And  she  was  so  mad  with  love  and  grief  she  killed 
her  girl  child  when  'twas  born  i'  the  kennel,  sobbing 
and  crying  that  it  should  not  live  to  be  like  her  and 
bear  others.  And  she  was  condemned  to  death  and 
swung  for  it  on  Tyburn  Tree.  And,  Lord!  how  she 
X3  VOL.  2 


290         A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 

cried  his  name  as  she  jolted  on  her  coffin  to  the  gal- 
lows, and  when  the  hangman  put  the  rope  round  her 
shuddering  little  fair  neck,  'Oh,  John,'  screams  she, 
'John  Oxon,  God  forgive  thee!  Nay,  'tis  God  should 
be  forgiven  for  letting  thee  to  live  and  me  to  die  like 
this.'  Aye,  'twas  a  bitter  sight!  She  was  so  little 
and  so  young  and  so  affrighted.  The  hangman  could 
scarce  hold  her.  I  was  i'  the  midst  o'  the  crowd,  and 
cried  to  her  to  strive  to  stand  still,  'twould  be  the 
sooner  over.  But  that  she  could  not.  'Oh,  John,' 
she  screams,  'John  Oxon,  God  forgive  thee!  Nay, 
'tis  God  should  be  forgiven  for  letting  thee  to  live 
and  me  to  die  like  this !'  " 

Till  the  last  hour  of  the  poor  creature  who  lay  be- 
fore her  when  she  heard  this  thing,  her  Grace  of 
Osmonde  saw  that  she  was  tended,  took  her  from  her 
filthy  hovel,  putting  her  in  a  decent  house,  and  going 
to  her  day  by  day  until  she  received  her  last  breath, 
holding  her  hand  while  the  poor  wench  lay  staring 
up  at  her  beauteous  face  and  her  great  deep  eyes,  whose 
lustrousness  held  such  power  to  sustain  and  comfort. 

"Be  not  afraid,  poor  soul,"  she  said,  "be  not  afraid; 
I  will  stay  near  thee.  Soon  all  will  end  in  sleep,  and 
if  thou  wakest,  sure  there  will  be  Christ  who  died,  and 
wipes  all  tears  away.  Hear  me  say  it  to  thee  for  a 
prayer,"  and  she  bent  low,  and  said  it  soft  and  clear 
into  the  deadening  ear,  "He  wipes  all  tears  away. 
He  wipes  all  tears  away." 

The  great  strength  she  had  used  in  the  old  days  to 
conquer  and  subdue,  to  win  her  will  and  to  defend 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          291 

her  way,  seemed  now  a  power  but  to  protect  the  suf- 
fering and  uphold  the  weak,  and  this  she  did,  not 
alone  in  hovels,  but  in  the  brilliant  court  and  world 
of  fashion,  for  there  she  found  suffering  and  weak- 
ness also,  all  the  more  bitter  and  sorrowful  since 
it  dared  not  cry  aloud.  The  grandeur  of  her  beauty, 
the  elevation  of  her  rank,  the  splendor  of  her 
wealth,  would  have  made  her  a  protector  of  great 
strength,  but  that  which  upheld  all  those  who 
turned  to  her  was  that  which  dwelt  within  the  high 
soul  of  her,  the  courage  and  power  of  love  for  all 
things  human,  which  bore  upon  itself,  as  if  upon  an 
eagle's  outspread  wings,  the  woes  dragging  themselves 
broken  and  halting  upon  earth.  The  starving  beggar 
in  the  kennel  felt  it  and,  not  knowing  wherefore,  drew 
a  longer,  deeper  breath  as  if  of  purer,  more  exalted 
air ;  the  poor  poet,  in  his  garret,  was  fed  by  it,  and  hav- 
ing stood  near  or  spoken  to  her,  went  back  with  light- 
ening eyes  and  soul  warmed  to  believe  that  the  words 
his  muse  might  speak  the  world  might  stay  to  hear. 

From  the  hour  she  stayed  the  last  moments  of  John 
Oxon's  victim  she  set  herself  a  work  to  do.  None 
knew  it  but  herself  at  first  and  later  Anne,  for  'twas 
done  privately.  From  the  hag  who  had  told  her  of 
the  poor  girl's  hanging  upon  Tyburn  Tree,  she  learned 
things  by  close  questioning  which,  to  the  old  woman's 
dull  wit,  seemed  but  the  curiousness  of  a  great  lady, 
and  from  others,  who  stood  too  deep  in  awe  of  her 
to  think  of  her  as  a  mere  human  being,  she  gathered 
clues  which  led  her  far  in  the  tracing  of  the  evils  fol- 


292          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

lowing  one  wicked,  heartless  life.  Where  she  could 
hear  of  man,  woman,  or  child  on  whom  John  Oxon's 
sins  had  fallen,  or  who  had  suffered  wrong  by  him, 
there  she  went  to  help,  to  give  light,  to  give  comfort 
and  encouragement.  Strangely,  as  it  seemed  to  them, 
and  as  if  done  by  the  hand  of  Heaven,  the  poor  trades- 
men he  had  robbed  were  paid  their  dues,  youth  he 
had  led  into  evil  ways  was  checked  mysteriously  and 
set  in  better  paths,  women  he  had  dragged  downward 
were  given  aid  and  chance  of  peace  or  happiness, 
children  he  had  cast  upon  the  world  unfathered  and 
with  no  prospect  but  the  education  of  the  gutter  and 
a  life  of  crime  were  cared  for  by  a  powerful  unseen 
hand.  The  pretty  country  girl  saved  by  his  death, 
protected  by  her  Grace,  and  living  innocently  at  Dun- 
stanwolde,  memory  being  merciful  to  youth,  forgot 
him,  gained  back  her  young  roses,  and  learned  to 
smile  and  hope  as  though  he  had  been  but  a  name. 

"Since  'twas  I  who  killed  him,"  said  her  Grace  to 
her  inward  soul,  "  'tis  I  must  live  his  life  which  I 
took  from  him,  and  making  it  better,  I  may  be  for- 
given— if  there  is  One  who  dares  to  say  to  the  poor 
thing  He  made,  'I  will  not  forgive.'  " 

Surely  it  was  said  there  had  never  been  lives  so 
beautiful  and  noble  as  those  the  Duke  of  Osmonde 
and  his  lady  lived  as  time  went  by.  The  Tower  of 
Camylott,  where  they  had  spent  the  first  months  of 
their  wedded  life,  they  loved  better  than  any  other  of 
their  seats,  and  there  they  spent  as  much  time  as  their 
duties  of  Court  and  State  allowed  them.  It  was  in- 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          293 

deed  a  splendid  and  beautiful  estate,  the  stately  Tower 
being  built  upon  an  eminence,  and  there  rolling  out 
before  it  the  most  lovely  land  in  England,  moorland 
and  hills,  thick  woods  and  broad  meadows,  the  edge  of 
the  heather  dipping  to  show  the  soft  silver  of  the  sea. 

Here  was  this,  beauteous  woman,,  chatelaine  and 
queen,  wife  of  her  husband  as  never  before,  he  thought, 
had  wife  blessed  and  glorified  the  existence  of  mortal 
man.  All  her  great  beauty  she  gave  to  him  in  tender, 
joyous  tribute,  all  her  great  gifts  of  mind  and  wit 
and  grace  it  seemed  she  valued  but  as  they  gave  joys 
to  him ;  in  his  stately  households  in  town  and  country 
she  reigned  a  lovely  empress,  adored  and  obeyed  with 
reverence  by  every  man  or  woman  who  served  her 
and  her  lord.  Among  the  people  on  his  various 
estates  she  came  and  went  a  tender  goddess  of  benev- 
olence. When  she  appeared  amid  them  in  the  first 
months  of  her  wedded  life  the  humble  souls  regarded 
her  with  awe  not  unmixed  with  fear,  having  heard 
such  wild  stories  of  her  youth  at  her  father's  house, 
and  of  her  proud  state  and  bitter  wit  in  the  great 
London  world  when  she  had  been  my  Lady  Dunstan- 
wolde;  but  when  she  came  among  them,  all  else  was 
forgotten  in  wonder  at  her  gracious  and  nobte  way. 

"To  see  her  come  into  a  poor  body's  cottage,  so  tall 
and  grand  a  lady,  and  with  such  a  carriage  as  she 
hath,"  they  said,  hobnobbing  together  in  their  talk  of 
her,  "looking  as  if  a  crown  of  gold  should  sit  on 
her  high  black  head;  and  then  to  hear  her  gentle 
speech  and  see  the  look  in  her  eyes  as  if  she  was  but 


294         A  LADY   OF  QUALITY 

a  simple  new-married  girl  full  of  her  joy,  and  her 
heart  big  with  the  wish  that  all  other  women  should 
be  as  happy  as  herself,  it  is,  forsooth,  a  beauteous 
sight  to  see." 

"Aye,  and  no  hovel  too  poor  for  her,  and  no  man 
or  woman  too  sinful,"  was  said  again. 

"Heard  ye  how  she  found  that  poor  young  wench 
of  Haylits  lying  sobbing  among  the  fern  in  the  Tower 
woods,  and  stayed  and  knelt  beside  her  to  hear  her 
trouble?  The  poor  soul  had  gone  to  ruin  at  fourteen, 
and  her  father  finding  her  out,  beat  her  and  thrust 
her  from  his  door,  and  her  Grace  coming  through  the 
wood  at  sunset — it  being  her  way  to  walk  about  for 
mere  pleasure  as  though  she  had  no  coach  to  ride  in — 
the  girl  says  she  came  through  the  golden  glow  as  if 
she  had  been  one  of  God's  angels — and  she  kneeled 
and  took  the  poor  wench  in  her  arms — as  strong  as 
a  man,  Betty  says,  but  as  soft  as  a  young  mother — and 
she  said  to  her  things  surely  no  mortal  lady  ever  said 
before — that  she  knew  naught  of  a  surety  of  what 
God's  true  will  might  be,  or  if  His  laws  were  those 
that  had  been  made  by  man  concerning  marriage  by 
priests  saying  common  words,  but  that  she  surely 
knew  of  a  man  whose  name  was  Christ,  and  He  had 
taught  love  and  helpfulness  and  pity,  and  for  His 
sake,  He  having  earned  our  trust  in  Him,  whether 
He  was  God  or  Man,  because  He  hung  and  died  in 
awful  torture  on  the  cross — for  His  sake  all  of  us 
must  love  and  help  and  pity — 'I  you,  poor  Betty,' 
were  her  very  words,  'and  you  me.'  And  then  went 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY         295 

she  to  the  girl's  father  and  mother,  and  so  talked  to 
them  that  she  brought  them  to  weeping  and  begging 
Betty  to  come  home ;  and  also  she  went  to  her  sweet- 
heart, Tom  Beck,  and  made  so  tender  a  story  to  him 
of  the  poor  pretty  wench,  whose  love  for  him  had 
brought  her  to  such  trouble,  that  she  stirred  him  up 
to  falling  in  love  again — which  is  not  man's  way  at 
such  times — and  in  a  week's  time  he  and  Betty  went 
to  church  together,  her  Grace  setting  them  up  in  a 
cottage  on  the  estate." 

"I  used  all  my  wit  and  all  my  tenderest  words  to 
make  a  picture  that  would  fire  and  touch  him,  Gerald," 
her  Grace  said,  sitting  at  her  husband's  side  in  a  great 
window  from  which  they  often  watched  the  sunset 
in  the  valley  spread  below.  "And  that  with  which  I 
am  so  strong  sometimes — I  know  not  what  to  call  it, 
but  'tis  a  power  people  bend  to,  that  I  know — that 
I  used  upon  him  to  waken  his  dull  soul  and  brain. 
Whose  fault  is  it  that  they  are  dull,  poor  lout — he 
was  born  so,  as  I  was  born  strong  and  passionate,  and 
as  you  were  born  noble  and  pure  and  high.  I  led 
his  mind  back  to  the  past  when  he  had  been  made 
happy  by  the  sight  of  Betty's  little  smiling,  blushing 
face,  and  when  he  had  kissed  her  and  made  love  in 
the  hayfields.  And  this  I  said — though  'twas  not 
a  thing  I  have  learned  from  any  chaplain — that  when 
'twas  said  he  should  make  an  honest  woman  of  her, 
it  was  my  thought  that  she  had  been  honest  from  the 
first,  being  too  honest  to  know  that  the  world  was  not 
so,  and  that  even  the  man  a  woman  loved  with  all 


296          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

her  soul  might  be  a  rogue  and  have  no  honesty  in 
him.  And  at  last — 'twas  when  I  talked  to  him  about 
the  child — and  that  I  put  my  whole  soul's  strength 
in — he  burst  out  a-crying  like  a  schoolboy,  and  said, 
indeed  she  was  a  fond  little  thing,  and  had  loved  him 
and  he  had  loved  her,  and  'twas  a  shame' he  had  so 
done  by  her,  and  he  had  not  meant  it  at  first,  but  she 
was  so  simple  and  he  had  been  a  villain;  but  if  he 
married  her  now  he  would  be  called  a  fool  and  laughed 
at  for  his  pains.  Then  was  I  angry,  Gerald,  and  felt 
my  eyes  flash,  and  I  stood  up  tall  and  spoke  fiercely. 
'Let  them  dare,'  I  said,  'let  any  man  or  woman  dare, 
and  then  will  they  see  what  his  Grace  will  say.'  " 

Osmonde  drew  her  to  his  breast,  laughing  into  her 
lovely  eyes. 

"Nay,  'tis  not  his  .Grace  who  need  be  called  on," 
he  said,  "  'tis  her  Grace  they  love  and  fear  and  will 
obey,  though  'tis  the  sweetest,  womanish  thing  that 
you  should  call  on  me  when  you  are  power  itself  and 
can  so  rule  all  creatures  you  come  near." 

"Nay,"  she  said,  with  softly  pleading  face,  "let  me 
not  rule.  Rule  for  me,  or  but  help  me,  I  so  long  to 
say  your  name  that  they  may  know  I  speak  but  as 
your  wife." 

"Who  is  myself,"  he  answered,  "my  very  self." 

"Aye,"  she  said,  with  a  little  nod  of  her  head,  "that 
I  know — that  I  am  yourself — and  'tis  because  of  this 
that  one  of  us  can  not  be  proud  with  the  other,  for 
there  is  no  other,  there  is  only  one.  And  I  am  wrong 
to  say,  'Let  me  not  rule/  for  'tis  as  if  I  said,  'You  must 


A   LADY  OF  QUALITY          297 

not  rule/  I  meant  surely,  'God  give  me  strength  to  be 
as  noble  in  ruling  as  our  love  should  make  me.'  But 
just  as  one  tree  is  a  beech  and  one  an  oak,  just  as  the 
grass  stirs  when  the  summer  wind  blows  over  it,  so  a 
woman  is  a  woman,  and  'tis  her  nature  to  find  her  joy 
in  saying  such  words  to  the  man  who  loves  her,  when 
she  loves  as  I  do.  Her  heart  is  so  full  that  she  must 
joy  to  say  her  husband's  name  as  that  of  one  she 
can  not  think  without — who  is  her  life  as  is  her  blood 
and  her  pulses  beating.  "Pis  a  joy  to  say  your  name, 
Gerald,  as  it  will  be  a  joy — "  and  she  looked  far  out 
across  the  sun-goldened  valley  and  plains  with  a 
strange,  heavenly,  sweet  smile — "as  it  will  be  a  joy 
to  say  our  child's,  and  put  his  little  mouth  to  my  full 
breast." 

"Sweet  love!"  he  cried,  drawing  her  by  her  hand 
that  he  might  meet  the  radiance  of  her  look.  "Heart's 
dearest!" 

She  did  not  withhold  her  lovely  eyes  from  him,  but 
withdrew  them  from  the  sunset's  mist  of  gold  and 
the  clouds  piled,  as  it  were,  at  the  gates  of  heaven, 
and  they  seemed  to  bring  back  some  of  the  far-off 
glory  with  them.  Indeed,  neither  her  smile,  nor  she, 
seemed  at  that  moment  quite  to  be  things  of  earth. 
She  held  out  her  fair  noble  arms,  and  he  sprang  to 
her,  and  so  they  stood,  side  beating  against  side. 

"Yes,  love,"  she  said.  "Yes,  love — and  I  have 
prayed,  my  Gerald,  that  I  may  give  you  sons  who 
shall  be  men  like  you,  but  when  I  give  you  women 
children  I  shall  pray  with  all  my  soul  for  them,  that 


298         A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

they  may  be  just  and  strong  and  noble,  and  life  begin 
for  them  as  it  began  not  for  me." 

In  the  morning  of  a  spring  day,  when  the  cuckoos 
cried  in  the  woods  and  May  blossomed  thick,  white 
and  pink,  in  all  the  hedges,  the  bells  in  the  gray  church 
steeple  at  Camylott  rang  out  a  joyous,  jangling  peal, 
telling  to  all  the  village  that  the  heir  had  been  born 
at  the  Tower.  Children  stopped  in  their  play  to  listen, 
men  at  their  work  in  field  and  barn,  good  gossips 
ran  out  of  their  cottage  doors,  wiping  their  arms  dry 
from  their  tubs  and  scrubbing  buckets,  their  honest 
red  faces  broadening  into  maternal  grins. 

"Aye,  'tis  well  over,  that  means  surely/'  one  said 
to  the  other,  "and  a  happy  day  has  begun  for  the  poor 
lady,  though  God  knows  she  bore  herself  queenly  to 
the  very  last,  .as  if  she  could  have  carried  her  burden 
for  another  year,  and  blenched  not  a  bit  as  other 
women  do.  Bless  mother  and  child,  say  I." 

"And  'tis  an  heir,"  said  another.  She  promised  us 
that  we  should  know  almost  as  quick  as  she  did,  and 
commanded  old  Rowe  to  ring  a  peal  and  then  strike 
one  bell  loud  between  if  'twere  a  boy,  and  two  if  'twere 
a  girl  child.  Tis  a  boy,  hark  you,  and  'twas  like  her 
wit  to  invent  such  a  way  to  tell  us." 

In  four  other  villages  the  chimes  rang  just  as  loud 
and  merrily,  and  the  women  talked  and  blessed  her 
Grace  and  her  young  child,  and  casks  of  ale  were 
broached,  and  oxen  roasted,  and  work  stopped,  and 
dancers  footed  it  upon  the  green. 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY         299 

"Surely  the  new-born  thing  comes  here  to  happi- 
ness," 'twas  said  everywhere,  "for  never  yet  was 
woman  loved  as  is  his  mother." 

In  her  stately  bed  her  Grace  the  Duchess  lay  with 
the  face  of  the  Mother  Mary,  and  her  man-child 
drinking  from  her  breast.  The  Duke  walked  softly 
up  and  down,  so  full  of  joy  that  he  could  not  sit  still. 
When  he  had  entered  first  it  was  his  wife's  self  who 
had  sat  upright  in  her  bed  and  herself  laid  his  son 
within  his  arms. 

"None  other  shall  lay  him  there,"  she  said.  "I 
have  given  him  to  you.  He  is  a  great  child,  but  he 
has  not  taken  from  me  my  strength." 

He  was  indeed  a  great  child,  even  at  his  first  hour, 
of  limbs  and  countenance  so  noble  that  nurses  and  phys- 
icians regarded  him  amazed.  He  was  the  offspring  of 
a  great  love,  of  noble  bodies  and  great  souls.  Did  such 
powers  alone  -create  human  beings,  the  earth  would  be 
peopled  with  a  race  of  giants.  Amid  the  veiled  spring 
sunshine  and  the  flower-scented  silence,  broken  only 
by  the  twittering  of  birds  nesting  in  the  ivy,  her  Grace 
lay  soft  asleep,  her  son  resting  on  her  arm,  when  Anne 
stole  to  look  at  her  and  her  child.  Through  the  night 
she  had  knelt  praying  in  her  chamber,  and  now  she 
knelt  again.  She  kissed  the  new-born  thing's  curled 
rose-leaf  hand  and  the  lace  frill  of  his  mother's  night- 
rail.  She  dared  not  further  disturb  them. 

"Sure  God  forgives,"  she  breathed.  "For  Christ's 
sake,  He  would  not  give  this  little  tender  thing  a  pun- 
ishment to  bear." 


CHAPTER    XXII 

MOTHER    ANNE 

THERE  was  no  punishment.  In  this  God  was  as 
honest  as  a  human  thing  may  be.  The  tender  little 
creature  grew  as  a  blossom  grows  from  bud  to  fair- 
est bloom.  His  mother  flowered  as  he,  and  spent  her 
days  in  noble  cherishing  of  him  and  tender  care.  Such 
motherhood  and  wifehood  as  were  hers  were  as  fair 
statues  raised  to  nature's  self. 

"Once  I  thought  that  I  was  under  ban,"  she  said 
to  her  lord  in  one  of  their  sweetest  hours,  "but  I  have 
been  given  love  and  a  life,  and  so  I  know  it  can  not 
be.  Do  I  fill  all  your  being,  Gerald  ?" 

"All,  all!"  he  cried,  "my  sweet,  sweet  woman." 

"Leave  I  no  longing  unfulfilled,  no  duty  undone, 
to  you,  dear  love,  to  the  world,  to  human  suffering 
I  might  aid?  I  pray  Christ,  with  all  passionate  hum- 
bleness, that  I  may  not." 

"He  grants  your  prayer,"  he  answered,  his  eyes 
moist  with  worshiping  tenderness. 

"And  this  white  soul,  given  to  me  from  the  outer 
bounds  we  know  not,  it  has  no  stain;  and  the  little 
human  body  it  wakened  to  life  in,  think  you  that  Christ 
300 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY         301 

will  help  me  to  fold  them  in  love,  high  and  pure 
enough,  and  teach  the  human  body  to  do  honor  to  its 
soul?  "Pis  not  monkish  scorn  of  itself  that  I  would 
teach  the  body.  It  is  so  beautiful  and  noble  a  thing, 
and  so  full  of  the  power  of  joy.  /'Surely  That  which 
made  it  in  His  own  image  would  not  that  it  should 
despise  itself  and  its  own  wonders,  but  do  them  rever- 
ence and  rejoice  in  them  nobly,  honoring  all  their 
seasons  and  their  changes,  counting  not  youth  folly 
and  manhood  sinful,  or  age  aught  but  gentle  ripeness 
passing  onward,  j  I  pray  for  a  great  soul,  and  great 
wit,  and  greater  power  to  help  this  fair  human  thing 
to  grow,  and  love,  and  live." 

These  thoughts  had  been  born  and  had  rested  hid 
within  her  when  she  lay  a  babe  struggling  beneath 
her  dead  mother's  corpse.  Through  the  darkness  of 
untaught  years  they  had  grown  but  slowly,  being  so 
unfitly  and  unfairly  nourished;  yet  life's  sun  but  fall- 
ing on  her,  they  seemed  to  strive  to  fair  fruition  with 
her  days.  'Twas  not  mere  love  she  gave  her  offspring, 
for  she  bore  others  as  years  passed,  until  she  was  the 
mother  of  four  sons  and  two  girls,  children  of  strength 
and  beauty  as  noted  as  her  own ;  she  gave  them  of  her 
constant  thought  and  of  an  honor  of  their  humanity 
such  as  taught  them  reverence  of  themselves  as  of  all 
other  human  things.  Their  love  for  her  was  such  a 
passion  as  their  father  bore  her.  She  was  the  noblest 
creature  that  they  knew;  her  beauty,  her  great  un- 
swerving love,  her  truth,  were  things  bearing  to  their 
child  eyes  the  unchangingness  of  God's  stars  in  heaven. 


302          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

"Why  is  she  not  the  Queen  ?"  a  younger  one  asked 
his  father  once,  having  been  to  London  and  seen  the 
Court.  "The  Queen  is  not  so  beautiful  and  grand  as 
she,  and  she  could  so  well  reign  over  the  people.  She 
is  always  just  and  honorable,  and  fears  nothing." 

From  her  side  Mistress  Anne  was  rarely  parted. 
In  her  fair  retreat  at  Camylott  she  lived  a  life  all  un- 
disturbed by  outward  things.  When  the  children  were 
born  strange  joy  came  to  her. 

"Be  his  mother  also,"  the  Duchess  had  said,  when 
she  had  drawn  the  clothes  aside  to  show  her  first- 
born sleeping  in  her  arm.  "You  were  made  to  be  the 
mother  of  things,  Anne." 

"Nay — or  they  had  been  given  to  me,"  Anne  had 
answered. 

"Mine  I  will  share  with  you,"  her  Grace  had  said, 
lifting  her  Madonna  face.  "Kiss  me,  sister.  Kiss 
him,  too,  and  bless  him.  Your  life  has  been  so  inno- 
cent, it  must  be  good  that  you  should  love  and  guard 
him." 

'Twas  sweet  to  see  the  wit  she  showed  in  giving 
to  poor  Anne  the  feeling  that  she  shared  her  mother- 
hood. She  shared  her  tenderest  cares  and  duties  with 
her.  Together  they  bathed  and  clad  the  child  in  the 
morning,  this  being  their  high  festival  in  which  the 
nurses  shared  but  in  the  performance  of  small  duties. 
Each  day  they  played  with  him,  and  laughed  as  women 
will  at  such  dear  times,  kissing  his  grand,  round  limbs, 
crying  out  at  their  growth,  worshiping  his  little  rosy 
feet,  and  smothering  him  with  caresses.  And  then 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY         303 

they  put  him  to  sleep,  Anne  sitting  close  while  his 
mother  fed  him  from  her  breast,  until  his  small,  red 
mouth  parted  and  slowly  released  her. 

When  he  could  toddle  about,  and  was  beginning 
to  say  words,  there  was  a  morning  when  she  bore 
him  to  Anne's  tower,  that  they  might  joy  in  him 
together  as  was  their  way.  It  was  a  beautiful  thing 
to  see  her  walk,  carrying  him  in  the  strong  and  lovely 
curve  of  her  arm,  as  if  his  sturdy  babyhood  were  of 
no  more  weight  than  a  rose;  and  he  cuddling  against 
her,  clinging  and  crowing,  his  wide,  brown  eyes  shin- 
ing with  delight. 

"He  has  come  to  pay  thee  court,  Anne,"  she  said. 
"He  is  a  great  gallant  and  knows  how  we  are  his  lov- 
ing slaves.  He  comes  to  say  his  new  word  that  I  have 
taught  him." 

She  set  him  down  where  he  stood  holding  to  Anne's 
knee  and  showing  his  new  pearl  teeth  in  a  rosy  grin; 
his  mother  knelt  beside  him,  beginning  her  coaxing. 

"Who  is  she?"  she  said,  pointing  with  her  fingers 
at  Anne's  face,  her  own  full  of  lovely  fear  lest  the 
child  should  not  speak  rightly  his  lesson.  "What  is 
her  name?  Mammy's  man,  say — "  and  she  mumbled 
softly  with  her  crimson  mouth  at  his  ear. 

The  child  looked  up  at  Anne  with  baby  wit  and 
laughter  in  his  face,  and  stammered  sweetly: 

"Muz — Muzzer — Anne,"  he  said,  and  then  being 
pleased  with  his  cleverness,  danced  on  his  little  feet, 
and  said  it  over  and  over. 

Clorinda  caught  him  up  and  set  him  on  Anne's  lap. 


304          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

"Know  you  what  he  calls  you?"  she  said.  "Tig 
but  a  mumble;  his  little  tongue  is  not  nimble  enough 
for  clearness,  but  he  says  it  his  pretty  best.  Tis 
Mother  Anne,  he  says,  'tis  Mother  Anne." 

And  then  they  were  in  each  other's  arms,  the  child 
between  them,  he  kissing  both  and  clasping  both,  with 
little- laughs  of  joy  as  if  they  were  but  one  creature. 

Each  child  born  they  clasped  and  kissed  so,  and  were 
so  clasped  and  kissed  by,  each  one  calling  the  tender, 
unwed  woman  "Mother  Anne,"  and  having  a  special 
lovingness  for  her,  she  being  the  creature  each  one 
seemed  to  hover  about  with  innocent  protection  and 
companionship. 

The  wonder  of  Anne's  life  grew  deeper  to  her  hour 
by  hour,  and  where  she  had  before  loved  she  learned 
to  worship,  for  'twas  indeed  worship  that  her  soul  was 
filled  with.  She  could  not  look  back  and  believe  that 
she  had  not  dreamed  a  dream  of  all  the  years  gone 
by  and  that  they  held.  This  —  this  was  true  —  the 
beauty  of  these  days,  the  love  of  them,  the  gener- 
ous deeds,  the  sweet  courtesies  and  gentle  words 
spoken,  this  beauteous  woman  dwelling  in  her  hus- 
band's heart,  giving  him  all  joy  of  life  and  love,  rul- 
ing queenly  and  gracious  in  his  house,  bearing  him 
noble  children,  and  tending  them  with  the  very  genius 
of  tenderness  and  wisdom. 

But  in  Mistress  Anne  herself  life  had  never  been 
strong,  she  was  of  the  fibre  of  her  mother,  who  had 
died  in  youth  crushed  by  its  cruel  weight,  and  to  her, 
living  had  been  so  great  and  terrible  a  thing.  'There 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY          305 

had  not  been  given  to  her  the  will  to  battle  with  the 
fate  that  fell  to  her,]  the  brain  to  reason  and  disen- 
tangle problems,  or  the  power  to  set  them  aside. 
So,  while  her  Grace  of  Osmonde  seemed  but  to  gain 
greater  state  and  beauty  in  her  ripening,  her  sister's 
frail  body  grew  more  frail,  and  seemed  to  shrink  and 
age.  Yet  her  face  put  on  a  strange  worn  sweetness, 
and  her  soft,  dull  eyes  had  a  look  almost  like  a  saint's 
who  looks  at  heaven.  She  prayed  much  and  did  many 
charitable  works  both  in  town  and  country.  She  read 
her  books  of  devotion  and  went  much  to  church,  sit- 
ting with  a  reverent  face  through  many  a  dull  and 
lengthy  sermon,  she  would  have  felt  it  sacrilegious 
to  think  of  with  aught  but  pious  admiration.  In  the 
middle  of  the  night  it  was  her  custom  to  rise  and  offer 
up  prayers  through  the  dark  hours.  She  was  an  hum- 
ble soul,  who  greatly  feared  and  trembled  before  her 
God. 

"I  waken  in  the  night  sometimes,"  the  fair,  tall 
child  Daphne  said  once  to  her  mother,  "and  Mother 
Anne  is  there — she  kneels  and  prays  beside  my  bed. 
She  kneels  and  prays  so  by  each  one  of  us  many  a 
night." 

"  Tis  because  she  is  so  pious  a  woman  and  so  loves 
us,"  said  young  John  in  his  stately,  generous  way. 
The  house  of  Osmonde  had  never  had  so  fine  and 
handsome  a  creature  for  its  heir.  He  o'ertopped  every 
boy  of  his  age  in  height,  and  the  bearing  of  his  lovely, 
youthful  body  was  masculine  grace  itself. 

The  town  and  the  Court  knew  these  children,  and 


306         A   LADY   OF  QUALITY 

talked  of  their  beauty  and  growth  as  they  had  talked 
of  their  mother's. 

"To  be  the  mate  of  such  a  woman,  the  father  of 
such  heirs,  is  a  fate  a  man  might  pray  God  for,"  'twas 
said.  "Love  has  not  grown  stale  with  them.  Their 
children  are  the  very  blossoms  of  it.  Her  eyes  are 
deeper  pools  of  love  each  year." 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

"IN  ONE  WHO  WILL  DO  JUSTICE,  AND  DEMANDS  THAT 

IT  SHALL  BE  DONE  TO  EACH  THING  HE  HAS 

MADE,  BY  EACH  WHO  BEARS  HIS  IMAGE" 

'TWAS  in  these  days  Sir  Jeoffry  came  to  his  end, 
it  being  in  such  way  as  had  been  often  prophesied ; 
and  when  his  final  hour  came  there  was  but  one  who 
could  give  him  comfort,  and  this  was  the  daughter 
whose  youth  he  had  led  with  such  careless  evilness 
to  harm. 

If  he  had  wondered  at  her  when  she  had  been  my 
Lady  Dunstanwolde,  as  her  Grace  of  Osmonde  he  re- 
garded her  with  heavy  awe.  Never  had  she  been  able 
to  lead  him  to  visit  her  at  her  house  in  town,  or  at 
any  other  which  was  her  home.  "  'Tis  all  too  grand 
for  me,  your  Grace,"  he  would  say;  "I  am  a  country 
yokel,  and  have  hunted  and  drunk  and  lived  too  hard 
to  look  well  among  town  gentlemen.  I  must  be  drunk 
at  dinner,  and  when  I  am  in  liquor  I  am  no  ornament 
to  a  duchess's  drawing-room.  But  what  a  woman 
you  have  grown,"  he  would  say,  staring  at  her  and 
shaking  his  head.  "Each  time  I  clap  eyes  on  you  'tis 
to  marvel  at  you,  remembering  what  a  baggage  you 
307 


3p8         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

were,  and  how  you  kept  from  slipping  by  the  way. 
There  was  Jack  Oxon,  now,"  he  added  one  day ;  "after 
you  married  Dunstanwolde  I  heard  a  pretty  tale  of 
Jack — that  he  had  made  a  wager  among  his  friends 
in  town — he  was  a  braggart  devil,  Jack — that  he  would 
have  you,  though  you  were  so  scornful;  and  knowing 
him  to  be  a  liar,  his  fellows  said  that,  unless  he  could 
bring  back  a  raven  lock  five  feet  long  to  show  them, 
he  had  lost  his  bet,  for  they  would  believe  no  other 
proof.  And  finely  they  scoffed  at  him  when  he  came 
back  saying  that  he  had  had  one,  but  had  hid  it  away 
for  safety  when  he  was  drunk  and  could  not  find  it 
again.  They  so  flouted  and  jeered  at  him  that  swords 
were  drawn  "and  blood  as  well.  But  though  he  was 
a  beauty  and  a  crafty  rake-hell  fellow,  you  were  too 
sharp  for  him.  Had  you  not  had  so  shrewd  a  wit 
and  strong  a  will  you  would  not  have  been  the 
greatest  duchess  in  England,  Clo,  as  well  as  the  finest 
woman." 

"Nay,"  she  answered,  "in  those  days — nay,  let  us 
not  speak  of  them !  I  would  blot  them  out — out." 

As  time  went  by,  and  the  years  spent  in  drink  and 
debauchery  began  to  tell  even  on  the  big,  strong  body 
which  should  have  served  any  other  man  bravely  long 
past  his  threescore  and  ten,  Sir  Jeoffry  drank  harder 
and  lived  more  wildly,  sometimes  being  driven  des- 
perate by  dulness,  his  coarse  pleasures  having  lost 
their  potency. 

"Liquor  is  not  as  strong  as  it  once  was,"  he  used 
to  grumble,  "and  there  are  fewer  things  to  stir  a  man 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY         309 

to  frolic.  Lord,  what  roaring  days  and  nights  a  man 
could  have  thirty  years  ago." 

So,  in  his  efforts  to  emulate  such  nights  and  days, 
he  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  new  orgies,  and 
one  night,  after  a  heavy  day's  hunting,  sitting  at  the 
head  of  his  table  with  his  old  companions,  he  sud- 
denly leaned  forward,  staring  with  starting  eyes  at  an 
empty  chair  in  a  dark  corner.  His  face  grew  purple, 
and  he  gasped  and  gurgled. 

"What  is't,  Jeof?"  old  Eldershawe  cried,  touching 
his  shoulder  with  a  shaking  hand.  "What's  the  man 
staring  at,  as  if  he  had  gone  mad?" 

"Jack,"  cried  Sir  Jeoffry,  his  eyes  still  farther 
starting  from  their  sockets.  "Jack!  What  say  you? 
I  can  not  hear." 

The  next  instant  he  sprang  up,  shrieking  and  thrust- 
ing with  his  hands  as  if  warding  something  off. 

"Keep  back!"  he  yelled.  'There  is  green  mold  on 
thee.  Where  hast  thou  been  to  grow  moldy?  Keep 
back!  Where  hast  thou  been?" 

His  friends  at  table  started  up,  staring  at  him  and 
losing  color,  he  shrieked  so  loud  and  strangely;  he 
clutched  his  hair  with  his  hands  and  fell  into  his  chair 
raving,  clutching,  and  staring,  or  dashing  his  head 
down  upon  the  table  to  hide  his  face,  and  then  rais- 
ing it  as  if  he  could  not  resist  being  drawn,  in  his 
affright,  to  gaze  again.  There  was  no  soothing  him. 
He  shouted  and  struggled  with  those  who  would  have 
held  him.  'Twas  Jack  Oxon  who  was  there,  he  swore 
— Jack,  who  kept  stealing  slowly  nearer  to  him,  his 


3io          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

face  and  his  fine  clothes  damp  and  green.  He  beat 
at  him  with  mad  hands,  and  at  last  fell  upon  the  floor, 
and  rolled  foaming  at  the  mouth. 

They  contrived,  after  great  smugglings,  to  bear  him 
to  his  chamber,  but  it  took  the  united  strength  of  all 
who  would  stay  near  him  to  keep  him  from  making 
an  end  of  himself.  By  the  dawn  of  day  his  boon 
companions  stood  by  him  with  their  garments  torn  to 
tatters,  their  faces  drenched  with  sweat,  and  their  own 
eyes  almost  starting  from  their  sockets;  the  doctor, 
who  had  been  sent  for,  coming  in  no  hurry,  but  scowled 
and  shook  his  head  when  he  beheld  him. 

"He  is  a  dead  man,"  he  said;  "and  the  wonder  is 
that  this  has  not  come  before.  He  is  sodden  with 
drink  and  rotten  with  ill-living,  besides  being  past  all 
the  strength  of  youth.  He  dies  of  the  life  he  has 
lived." 

'Twas  little  to  be  expected  that  his  boon  companions 
could  desert  their  homes  and  pleasures  and  tend  his 
horrors  longer  than  a  night.  Such  sights  as  he  pre- 
sented did  not  inspire  them  to  cheerful  spirits. 

"Lord,"  said  Sir  Chris  Crowell,  "to  see  him  clutch 
his  flesh,  and  shriek  and  mouth,  is  enough  to  make  a 
man  live  sober  for  his  remaining  days,"  and  he  shook 
his  big  shoulders  with  a  shudder. 

"Ugh !"  he  said.  "God  grant  I  may  make  a  better 
end.  He  writhes  as  in  hell  fire." 

"There  is  but  one  on  earth  will  do  aught  for  him," 
said  Eldershawe.  "  'Tis  handsome  Clo  who  is  a  duch- 
ess, but  she  will  come  and  tend  him,  I  could  swear. 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          311 

Even  when  she  was  a  lawless  devil  of  a  child  she  had 
a  way  of  standing  by  her  friends  and  fearing  naught." 

So,  after  taking  counsel  together,  they  sent  for  her, 
and  in  as  many  hours  as  it  took  to  drive  from  London 
her  coach  stood  before  the  door.  By  this  time  all  the 
household  was  panic-stricken  and  in  hopeless  disorder, 
the  women  servants  scattered  and  shuddering  in  far 
corners  of  the  house,  such  men  as  could  get  out  of  the 
way  having  found  work  to  do  afield  or  in  the  kennels, 
for  none  had  nerve  to  stop  where  they  could  hear  the 
madman's  shrieks  and  howls. 

Her  Grace,  entering  the  house,  went  with  her  woman 
straight  to  her  chamber,  and  shortly  emerged  there- 
from, stripped  of  her  rich  apparel  and  clad  in  a  gown 
of  strong  blue  linen,  her  hair  wound  close,  her  white 
hands  bare  of  any  ornament,  save  the  band  of  gold, 
which  was  her  wedding  ring.  A  serving-woman 
might  have  been  clad  so,  but  the  plainness  of  her 
garb  but  made  her  height  and  strength  so  reveal 
themselves  that  the  mere  sight  of  her  woke  some- 
what that  was  like  to  awe  in  the  eyes  of  the  servants 
who  beheld  her  as  she  passed. 

She  needed  not  to  be  led,  but  straightway  followed 
the  awful  sounds,  until  she  reached  the  chamber  be- 
hind whose  door  they  were  shut.  Upon  the  huge, 
disordered  bed  Sir  Jeoffry  writhed  and  tried  to  tear 
himself,  his  great  sinewy  and  hairy  body  almost 
stark.  Two  of  the  stablemen  were  striving  to  hold 
him. 

The  Duchess  went  to  his  bedside  and  stood  there, 


3i2         A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

laying  her  strong  white  hand  upon  his  shuddering 
shoulder. 

"Father,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  so  clear,  and  with  such 
a  ring  of  steady  command,  as,  the  men  said  later, 
might  have  reached  a  dead  man's  ear — "Father,  'tis 
Clo!" 

Sir  Jeoffry  writhed  his  head  round  and  glared  at 
her  with  starting  eyes  and  foaming,  mouth. 

"Who  says  'tis  Clo  ?"  he  shouted.  "  Tis  a  lie !  She 
was  even  a  bigger  devil  than  any  other,  though  she 
was  but  a  handsome  wench.  Jack  himself  could  not 
manage  her.  She  beat  him  and  would  beat  him  now. 
Tis  a  lie!" 

All  through  that  day  and  night  the  power  of  her 
Grace's  white  arm  was  the  thing  which  saved  him 
from  dashing  out  his  brains.  The  two  men  could 
not  have  held  him,  and  at  his  greatest  frenzy  they 
observed  that  now  and  then  his  blood-shot  eye  would 
glance  aside  at  the  beauteous  face  above  him.  The 
sound  of  the  word  "Clo"  had  struck  upon  his  brain 
and  wakened  an  echo. 

She  sent  away  the  men  to  rest,  calling  for  others  in 
their  places,  but  leave  the  bedside  herself  she  would 
not.  'Twas  a  strange  thing  to  see  her  strength  and 
bravery,  which  could  not  be  beaten  down.  When  the 
doctor  came  again  he  found  her  there,  and  changed 
his  surly  and  reluctant  manner  in  the  presence  of  a 
duchess,  and  one  who,  in  her  close  linen  gown,  wore 
such  a  mien. 

"You  should  not  have  left  him,"  she  said  to  him, 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          313 

unbendingly,  "even  though  I  myself  can  see  there  is 
little  help  that  can  be  given.  Thought  you  his  Grace 
and  I  would  brook  that  he  should  die  alone  if  we  could 
not  have  reached  him?" 

Those  words,  "his  Grace  and  I,"  put  a  new  face 
upon  the  matter,  and  all  was  done  that  lay  within  the 
man's  skill,  but  most  was  he  disturbed  concerning  the 
lady,  who  would  not  be  sent  to  rest,  and  whose  noble 
consort  would  be  justly  angered  if  she  were  allowed  to 
injure  her  superb  health. 

"His  Grace  knew  what  I  came  to  do,  and  how  I 
should  do  it,"  the  Duchess  said,  unbending  still.  "But 
for  affairs  of  state,  which  held  him,  he  would  have 
been  here  at  my  side." 

She  held  her  place  throughout  the  second  night,  and 
that  was  worse  than  the  first,  the  paroxysms  growing 
more  and  more  awful ;  for  Jack  was  within  a  yard,  and 
stretched  out  a  green  and  moldy  hand,  the  finger-bones 
showing  through  the  flesh,  the  while  he  smiled  awfully. 

At  last  one  pealing  scream  rang  out  after  another, 
until,  after  curving  his  shuddering  body  into  anlkrc, 
resting  on  heels  and  head,  the  madman  fell  exhaujjjgd, 
his  flesh  all  quaking  before  the  eye.  Then  the  Duchess 
waved  the  men  who  helped  away.  She  sat  upon  the 
bed's  edge  close — close  to  her  father's  body,  putting 
her  two  firm  hands  on  either  of  his  shoulders,  hold- 
ing him  so,  and  bent  down,  looking  into  his  wild  face 
as  if  she  fixed  upon  his  very  soul  all  the  power  of  her 
wondrous  will. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "look  at  my  face.  Thou  canst 
14  VOL.  2 


3i4          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

if  them  wilt.  Look  at  my  face.  Then  wilt  thou  see 
'tis  Clo,  and  she  will  stand  by  thee." 

She  kept  her  gaze  upon  his  very  pupils,  and  though 
'twas  at  first  as  if  his  eyes  strove  to  break  away  from 
her  look,  their  effort  was  controlled  by  her  steadfast- 
ness, and  they  wandered  back  at  last,  and  her  great 
orbs  held  them.  He  heaved  a  long  breath,  half  a  big, 
broken  sob,  and  lay  still,  staring  up  at  her. 

"Aye/'  he  said;  "  'tis  Clo!  'tis  Clo!" 

The  sweat  began  to  roll  from  his  forehead  and  the 
tears  down  his  cheeks.  He  broke  forth,  wailing  like 
a  child. 

"Clo— Clo,"  he  said,  "I  am  in  hell." 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  breast,  keeping  will  and 
eyes  set  on  him. 

"Nay,"  she  answered,  "thou  art  on  earth  and  in  thine 
own  bed,  and  I  am  here  and  will  not  leave  thee." 

She  made  another  sign  to  the  men,  who  stood  and 
stared  aghast  in  wonder  at  her,  but  feeling  in  the 
very  air  about  her  the  spell  to  which  the  madness  had 
given  way. 

"  'Twas  not  mere  human  woman  who  sat  there," 
they  said  afterward  in  the  stables  among  their  fellows. 
"  'Twas  somewhat  more.  Had  such  a  will  been  in  an 
evil  thing  a  man's  hair  would  have  risen  on  his  skull 
at  the  seeing  of  it." 

"Go  now,"  she  said  to  them,  "and  send  women  to 
set  the  place  in  order." 

She  had  seen  delirium  and  death  enough,  in  the 
doings  of  her  deeds  of  mercy,  to  know  that  his  strength 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

had  gone  and  death  was  coming.  His  bed  and  room 
were  made  orderly,  and  at  last  he  lay  in  clean  linen 
with  all  made  straight.  Soon  his  eyes  seemed  to  sink 
into  his  head  and  stare  from  hollows,  and  his  skin  grew 
gray,  but  ever  he  stared  only  at  his  daughter's  face. 

"do,"  he  said  at  last,  "stay  by  me!  Clo,  go  not 
away !" 

"I  shall  not  go,"  she  answered. 

She  drew  a  seat  close  to  his  bed  and  took  his  hand. 
It  lay  knotted  and  gnarled  and  swollen-veined  upon 
her  smooth  palm,  and  with  her  other  hand  she  stroked 
it.  His  breath  came  weak  and  quick,  and  fear  grew 
in  his  eyes. 

"What  is  it,  Clo?"  he  said.    "What  is't?" 

"  'Tis  weakness,"  replied  she,  soothing  him.  "Soon 
you  will  sleep." 

"Aye,"  he  said,  with  a  breath  like  a  sob.  "  'Tis 
over." 

His  big  body  seemed  to  collapse,  he  shrank  so  in 
the  bedclothes. 

"What  day  o'  the  year  is  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"The  tenth  of  August,"  was  her  answer. 

"Sixty-nine  years  from  this  day  was  I  born,"  he 
said,  "and  now  'tis  done." 

"Nay,"  said  she.     "Nay— God  grant— 

"Aye,"  he  said — "done.  Would  there  were  nine 
and  sixty  more.  What  a  man  I  was  at  twenty.  I 
want  not  to  die,  Clo.  I  want  to  live — to  live — live, 
and  be  young,"  gulping,  "with  strong  muscles  and 
moist  flesh.  Sixty-nine  years — and  they  are  gone!" 


3i6          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

He  clung  to  her  hand  and  stared  at  her  with  awful 
eyes.  Through  all  his  life  he  had  been  but  a  great, 
strong,  human  carcass,  and  he  was  now  but  the  same 
carcass  worn  out,  and  at  death's  door.  Of  not  one 
human  thing  but  of  himself  had  he  ever  thought,  not 
one  creature  but  himself  had  he  ever  loved,  and  now 
he  lay  at  the  end — harking  back  only  to  the  wicked 
years  gone  by! 

"None  can  bring  them  back,"  he  shuddered.  "Not 
even  thou,  Clo,  who  art  so  strong.  None  —  none! 
Canst  pray,  Clo?"  with  the  gasp  of  a  craven. 

"Not  as  chaplains  do,"  she  answered.  f"I  believe 
not  in  a  God  who  clamors  but  for  praise."J 

"What  dost  believe  in,  then?" 

"In  One  who  will  do  justice — and  demands  that 
it  shall  be  done  to  each  thing  He  has  made,  by  each 
who  bears  His  image — aye  and  mercy,  too — but  jus- 
tice always,  for  justice  is  mercy's  highest  self." 

Who  knows  the  mysteries  of  the  human  soul  ?  Who 
knows  the  workings  of  the  human  brain?  The  God 
who  is  just  alone.  In  this  man's  mind,  which  was  so 
near  a  simple  beast's  in  all  its  movings,  some  remote, 
unborn  consciousness  was  surely  reached  and  vaguely 
set  astir  by  the  clear  words  thus  spoken. 

"Clo,  Clo!"  he  cried;  "Clo,  Clo!"  in  terror,  clutch- 
ing her  the  closer.  "What  dost  thou  mean  ?  In  all  my 
nine  and  sixty  years — "  and  rolled  his  head  in  agony. 

In  all  his  nine  and  sixty  years  he  had  shown  jus- 
tice to  no  man,  mercy  to  no  woman,  since  he  had 
thought  of  none  but  Jeoffry  Wildairs — and  this  truth 


A   LADY  OF   QUALITY         317 

somehow  dimly  reached  his  long-dulled  brain  and 
wakened  there. 

"Down  on  thy  knees,  Clo !"  he  gasped.  "Down  on 
thy  knees !" 

It  was  so  horrible — the  look  struggling  in  his  dying 
face — that  she  went  down  upon  her  knees  that  mo- 
ment, and  so  knelt,  folding  his  shaking  hands  within 
her  own  against  her  breast. 

"Thou  who  didst  make  him  as  he  was  born  into 
Thy  world,"  she  said,  "deal  with  that  to  which  Thou 
didst  give  life — and  death.  Show  him  in  this  hour, 
which  Thou  mad'st  also,  that  Thou  art  not  man  who 
would  have  vengeance,  but  that  Justice  which  is 
God." 

"Then — then — "  he  gasped.  "Then  will  He  damn 
me!" 

"He  will  weigh  thee,"  she  said.  "And  that  which 
His  own  hand  created  will  He  separate  from  that 
which  was  thine  own  wilful  wrong,  and  this  sure  He 
will  teach  thee  how  to  expiate — " 

"Clo,"  he  cried  again,  "thy  mother — she  was  but  a 
girl  and  died  alone — I  did  no  justice  to  her!  Daphne! 
Daphne!"  And  he  shook  beneath  the  bedclothes,  shud- 
dering to  his  feet,  his  face  growing  more  gray  and 
pinched. 

"She  loved  thee  once,"  Clorinda  said.  "She  was 
a  gentle  soul  and  would  not  forget.  She  will  show 
thee  mercy." 

"Birth  she  went  through,"  he  muttered,  "and  death 
—alone.  Birth  and  death !  Daphne,  my  girl—"  And 


3i8          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

his  voice  trailed  off  to  nothingness,  and  he  lay  staring 
at  space  and  panting. 

The  Duchess  sat  by  him  and  held  his  hand.  She 
moved  not,  though  at  last  he  seemed  to  fall  asleep. 

Two  hours  later  he  began  to  stir.  He  turned  his 
head  slowly  upon  his  pillows  until  his  gaze  rested  upon 
her,  as  she  sat  fronting  him.  'Twas  as  though  he  had 
wakened  to  look  at  her. 

"Clo!"  he  cried,  and  though  his  voice  was  but  a 
whisper  there  was  both  wonder  and  new,  wild  ques- 
tion in  it.  "Clo!" 

But  she  moved  not,  her  great  eyes  meeting  his  with 
steady  gaze,  and  even  as  they  looked  at  each  other 
his  body  stretched  itself,  his  lids  fell,  and  he  was  a 
dead  man. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE  DOVES  SAT  UPON  THE  WINDOW-LEDGE  AND  LOWLY 
COOED  AND  COOED 

WHEN  they  had  had  ten  years  of  happiness,  Anne 
died.  'Twas  of  no  violent  illness,  it  seemed,  but  that 
through  these  years  of  joy  she  had  been  gradually 
losing  life.  She  had  grown  thinner  and  whiter,  and 
her  soft  eyes  bigger  and  more  prayerful.  'Twas  in 
the  summer  and  they  were  at  Camylott,  when  one 
sweet  day  she  came  from  the  flower  garden  with  her 
hands  full  of  roses,  and  sitting  down  by  her  sister  in 
her  morning  room,  swooned  away,  scattering  her  blos- 
soms on  her  lap  and  at  her  feet. 

When  she  came  back  to  consciousness  she  looked 
up  at  the  Duchess  with  a  strange  far  look,  as  if  her 
soul  had  wandered  back  from  some  great  distance. 

"Let  me  be  borne  to  bed,  sister,"  she  said.  "I 
would  lie  still.  I  shall  not  get  up  again." 

The  look  in  her  face  was  so  unearthly  and  a  thing 
so  full  of  mystery,  that  her  Grace's  heart  stood  still, 
for  in  some  strange  way  she  knew  the  end  had 
come. 

They  bore  her  to  her  tower  and  laid  her  in  her  bed, 

319 


320          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

when  she  looked  once  round  the  room  and  then  at  her 
sister. 

"  Tis  a  fair,  peaceful  room,"  she  said.  "And  the 
prayers  I  have  prayed  in  it  have  been  answered.  To- 
day I  saw  my  mother  and  she  told  me  so." 

"Anne!  Anne!"  cried  her  Grace,  leaning  over  her 
and  gazing  fearfully  into  her  face,  for  though  her 
words  sounded  like  delirium,  her  look  had  no  wildness 
in  it.  And  yet,  "Anne!  Anne!  you  wander,  love," 
the  Duchess  cried. 

Anne  smiled  a  strange,  sweet  smile.  "Perchance  I 
do,"  she  said.  "I  know  not  truly,  but  I  am  very 
happy.  She  said  that  all  was  over  and  that  I  had  not 
done  wrong.  She  had  a  fair  young  face  with  eyes 
that  seemed  to  have  looked  always  at  the  stars  of 
heaven.  She  said  I  had  done  no  wrong." 

The  Duchess's  face  laid  itself  down  upon  the  pillow, 
a  river  of  clear  tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 

"Wrong !"  she  said.  "You !  Dear  one — woman  of 
Christ's  heart,  if  ever  lived  one.  You  were  so  weak 
and  I  so  strong,  and  yet  as  I  look  back  it  seems  that 
all  of  good  that  made  me  worthy  to  be  wife  and 
mother  I  learned  from  your  simplicity." 

Through  the  tower  window  and  the  ivy  closing 
round  it,  the  blueness  of  the  summer  sky  was  heavenly 
fair,  soft  and  light  white  clouds  floating  across  the 
clearness  of  its  sapphire.  On  this  Anne's  eyes  were 
fixed  with  an  uplifted  tenderness  until  she  broke  her 
silence. 

"Soon  I  shall  be  away,"  she  said.     "Soon  all  will 


A    LADY  OF   QUALITY          321 

be  left  behind.    And  I  would  tell  you  that  my  prayers 
were  answered — and  so  sure  yours  will  be." 

No  man  could  tell  what  made  the  Duchess  then 
fall  upon  her  knees,  but  she  herself  knew.  'Twas 
that  she  saw  in  the  exalted  dying  face  that  turned  to 
hers,  concealing  nothing  more. 

"Anne!  Anne!"  she  cried.  "Sister  Anne!  Mother 
Anne  of  my  children!  You  have  known — you  have 
known  all  the  years  and  kept  it  hid!" 

She  dropped  her  queenly  head  and  shielded  the 
whiteness  of  her  face  in  the  coverlid's  folds. 

"Aye,  sister,"  Anne  said,  coming  a  little  back  to 
earth — "and  from  the  first.  I  found  a  letter  near  the 
sundial — I  guessed — I  loved  you — and  could  do 
naught  else  but  guard  you.  Many  a  day  have  I 
watched  within  the  rose  garden — many  a  day — and 
night,  God  pardon  me — and  night.  When  I  knew  a 
letter  was  hid  'twas  my  wont  to  linger  near,  knowing 
that  my  presence  would  keep  others  away.  And  when 
you  approached — or  he — I  slipped  aside  and  waited 
beyond  the  rose  hedge — that  if  I  heard  a  step  I  might 
make  some  sound  of  warning.  Sister,  I  was  your 
sentinel — and  being  so,  knelt  while  on  my  guard — 
and  prayed." 

"My  sentinel!"  Clorinda  cried.  "And  knowing 
all — you  so  guarded  me,  night  and  day — and  prayed 
God's  pity  on  my  poor  madness  and  girl's  frenzy!" 
And  she  gazed  at  her  in  amaze  and  with  burning  tears. 

"For  my  own  poor  self,  sister,  as  well  as  for  you 
did  I  pray  God's  pity  as  I  knelt,"  Anne  said.  "For 


322          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

long  I  did  not  know  it — being  so  ignorant — but  alas! 
I  loved  him  too — I  loved  him  too!  I  have  loved  no 
other  man  all  my  days.  He  was  unworthy  any 
woman's  love — and  I  was  too  lowly  a  thing  for  him 
to  cast  a  glance  on;  but  I  was  a  woman  and  God 
made  us  so." 

Clorinda  clutched  her  pallid  hand. 

"Dear  God,"  she  cried,  "you  loved  him!" 

Anne  moved  upon  her  pillow,  drawing  weakly, 
slowly  near  until  her  white  lips  were  close  upon  her 
sister's  ear. 

"The  night,"  she  panted,  "the  night  you  bore  him — 
in  your  arms — " 

Then  did  the  other  woman  give  a  shuddering  start 
and  lift  her  head,  staring  with  a  frozen  face. 

"Down  the  dark  stairway,"  the  panting  voice  went 
on,  "to  the  far  cellar — I  kept  watch  again." 

"You  kept  watch?     You?"  the  Duchess  gasped. 

"Upon  the  stair  which  led  to  the  servants'  place — 
that  I  might  stop  them  if-— if  aught  disturbed  them, 
and  they  oped  their  doors — that  I  might  send  them 
back,  telling  them — it  was  I." 

Then  stooped  the  Duchess  nearer  to  her,  her  hands 
clutching  the  coverlid,  her  eyes  widening. 

"Anne,  Anne,"  she  cried,  "you  knew  that  he  was 
there?' 

Anne  lay  upon  her  pillow,  her  own  eyes  gazing  out 
through  the  ivy-hung  window  of  her  tower  at  the  blue 
sky  and  the  fleecy  clouds.  A  flock  of  snow-white  doves 
were  flying  back  and  forth  across  it,  and  one  sat  upon 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          323 

the  window's  deep  ledge  and  cooed.  All  was  warmed 
and  perfumed  with  summer's  sweetness.  There 
seemed  naught  between  her  and  the  uplifting  blueness, 
and  naught  of  the  earth  was  near  but  the  dove's  deep- 
throated  cooing  and  the  laughter  of  her  Grace's 
children  floating  upward  from  the  garden  of  flowers 
below. 

"I  lie  upon  the  brink,"  she  said — "upon  the  brink, 
sister,  and  methinks  my  soul  is  too  near  to  God's  pure 
justice  to  fear  as  human  things  fear,  and  judge  as 
earth  does.  She  said  I  did  no  wrong.  Yes,  I  knew." 
"And  knowing,"  her  sister  cried,  "you  came  that 
afternoon — " 

"To  stand  by  that  which  lay  hidden,  that  I  might 
keep  the  rest  away — being  a  poor  creature  and  tim- 
orous and  weak." 

"Weak,  weak,"  the  Duchess  cried  amid  a  greater 
burst  of  streaming  tears.  "Aye,  I  have  dared  to  call 
you  so,  who  have  the  heart  of  a  great  lioness.  Oh, 
sweet  Anne,  weak!" 

"  'Twas  love,"  Anne  whispered ;  "your  love  was 
strong  and  so  was  mine.  That  other  love  was  not 
for  me.  I  knew  that  my  long  woman's  life  would  pass 
without  it — for  woman's  life  is  long,  alas!  if  love 
comes  not.  But  you  were  love's  self  and  I  worshiped 
you  and  it.  And  to  myself  I  said — praying  forgiveness 
on  my  knees — that  one  woman  should  know  love  if  I 
did  not ;  and  being  so  poor  and  imperfect  a  thing,  what 
mattered  if  I  gave  my  soul  for  you — and  love  which 
is  so  great  and  rules  the  world.  Look  at  the  doves, 


324          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

sister,  look  at  them,  flying  past  the  heavenly  blueness 
— and  she  said  I  did  no  wrong." 

Her  hand  was  wet  with  tears  fallen  upon  it  as 
her  Duchess  sister  knelt  and  held  and  kissed  it, 
sobbing. 

"You  knew,  poor  love,  you  knew?"  she  cried. 

"Aye,  all  of  it  I  knew,"  Anne  said.  "His  torture 
of  you  and  the  madness  of  your  horror.  And  when 
he  forced  himself  within  the  paneled  parlor  that  day 
of  fate,  I  knew  he  came  to  strike  some  deadly  blow — 
and  in  such  anguish  I  waited  in  my  chamber  for  the 
end,  that  when  it  came  not,  I  crept  down  praying  that 
somehow  I  might  come  between — and  I  went  in  the 
room." 

"And  there — what  saw  you?"  quoth  the  Duchess, 
shuddering.  "Somewhat  you  must  have  seen — or  you 
could  not  have  known." 

"Aye,"  said  Anne,  "and  heard;"  and  the  chest 
heaved. 

"Heard!"  cried  Clorinda.     "Great  God  of  Mercy!" 

"The  room  was  empty,  and  I  stood  alone;  it  was  so 
still  I  was  afraid.  It  seemed  so  like  the  silence  of  the 
grave,  and  then  there  came  a  sound — a  long  and  shud- 
dering breath — but  one — and  then — " 

The  memory  brought  itself  too  keenly  back  and 
she  fell  a-shivering. 

— "I  heard  a  slipping  sound  and  a  dead  hand  fell  on 
the  floor — lying  outstretched,  its  palm  turned  upward, 
showing  beneath  the  valance  of  the  couch." 

She  threw  her  frail  arms  around  her  sister's  neck, 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY         325 

and  as  Clorinda  clasped  her  own,  breathing  gaspingly, 
they  swayed  together. 

"What  did  you  then?"  the  Duchess  cried  in  a  wild 
whisper. 

"I  prayed  God  keep  me  sane — and  knelt — and  looked 
below.  I  thrust  it  back,  the  dead  hand,  saying  aloud, 
'Swoon  you  must  not,  swoon  you  must  not,  swoon 
you  shall  not — God  help,  God  help' — and  I  saw!  The 
purple  mark — his  eyes  upturned — his  fair  curls  spread, 
and  I  lost  strength  and  fell  upon  my  side,  and  for 
a  minute  lay  there — knowing  that  shudder  of  breath 
had  been  the  very  last  expelling  of  his  being,  and  his 
hand  had  fallen  by  its  own  weight." 

"Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!"  Clorinda  cried, 
and  over  and  over  said  the  word,  and  over  again. 

"How  v/as't,  how  was't?"  Anne  shuddered,  cling- 
ing to  her.  "How  was't  'twas  done?  I  have  so  suf- 
fered, being  weak — I  have  so  prayed!  God  will  have 
mercy — but  it  has  done  me  to  death,  this  knowledge, 
and  before  I  die  I  pray  you  tell  me,  that  I  may  speak 
true  at  God's  throne." 

"Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!"  Clorinda 
groaned.  "Oh,  God !"  And  having  cried  so,  looking 
up,  was  blanched  as  a  thing  struck  with  death,  her 
eyes  like  a  great  stag's  that  stands  at  bay. 

"Stay,  stay,"  she  cried,  with  a  sudden  shock  of 
horror,  for  a  new  thought  had  come  to  her  which, 
strangely,  she  had  not  had  before.  "You  thought  I 
murdered  him?" 

Convulsive   sobs   heaved   Anne's  poor  chest,   tears 


326         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

sweeping  her  hollow  .cheeks,  her  thin  soft  hands  cling- 
ing piteously  to  her  sister's. 

"Through  all  these  years  I  have  known  nothing/* 
she  wept;  "sister,  I  have  known  nothing  but  that  I 
found  him  hidden  there,  a  dead  man  whom  you  so 
hated  and  so  feared." 

Her  hands  resting  upon  the  bed's  edge,  Clorinda 
held  her  body  upright,  such  passion  of  wonder,  love, 
and  pitying,  adoring  awe  in  her  large  eyes,  as  was  a 
thing  like  to  worship. 

"You  thought  I  murdered  him,  and  loved  me  still !" 
she  said.  "You  thought  I  murdered  him  and  still  you 
shielded  me  and  gave  me  chance  to  live,  and  to  repent, 
and  know  love's  highest  sweetness!  You  thought  I 
murdered  him,  and  yet  your  soul  had  mercy!  Now 
do  I  believe  in  God— for  only  a  God  could  make  a 
heart  so  noble." 

"And  you — did  not?"  cried  out  Anne,  and  raised 
upon  her  elbow,  her  breast  panting,  but  her  eyes  grow- 
ing wide  with  light  as  from  stars  from  heaven.  "Oh, 
sister — love — thanks  be  to  Christ  who  died !" 

The  Duchess  rose  and  stood  up  tall  and  great,  her 
arms  out-thrown. 

"I  think  'twas  God  himself  who  did  it,"  she  said, 
"though  'twas  I  who  struck  the  blow.  He  drove  me 
mad  and  blind,  he  tortured  me  and  thrust  to  my  heart's 
core.  He  taunted  me  with  that  vile  thing  nature  will 
not  let  women  bear,  and  did  it  in  my  Gerald's  name, 
calling  on  him.  And  then  I  struck  with  my  whip, 
knowing  nothing,  not  seeing,  only  striking  like  a 


A   LADY   OF  QUALITY          327 

goaded,  dying  thing.    He  fell — he  fell  and  lay  there — 
and  all  was  done." 

"But  not  with  murd'rous  thought — only  through 
frenzy  and  a  cruel  chance — a  cruel — cruel  chance. 
And  of  your  own  will  blood  is  not  upon  your  hand," 
Anne  panted,  and  sank  back  upon  her  pillow. 

"With  deepest  oaths  I  swear,"  Clorinda  said,  and  she 
spoke  through  her  clenched  teeth,  "if  I  had  not  loved 
— if  Gerald  had  not  been  my  soul's  life  and  I  his,  I 
would  have  stood  upright  and  laughed  in  his  face  at 
his  devil's  threats.  Should  I  have  feared  ?  You  know 
me.  Was  there  a  thing  on  earth  or  in  heaven  or  hell 
I  feared  until  love  rent  me?  'Twould  but  have  fired 
my  blood,  and  made  me  mad  with  fury  that  dares  all. 
'Spread  it  abroad !'  I  would  have  cried  to  him ;  'tell  it 
to  all  the  world,  craven  and  outcast,  whose  vileness 
all  men  know,  and  see  how  I  shall  bear  myself  and 
how  I  shall  drive  through  the  town  with  head  erect. 
As  I  bore  myself  when  I  set  the  rose  crown  on  my 
head,  so  shall  I  bear  myself  then.  And  you  shall  see 
•what  comes!'  This  would  I  have  said,  and  held  to  it 
and  gloried.  But  I  knew  love,  and  there  was  an  an- 
guish that  I  could  not  endure — that  my  Gerald  should 
look  at  me  with  changed  eyes — feeling  that  somewhat 
of  his  rightful  meed  had  gone.  And  I  was  all  dis- 
traught and  conquered.  Of  ending  his  base  life  I 
never  thought,  never  at  my  wildest,  though  I  had 
thought  to  end  my  own;  but  when  fate  struck  the 
blow  for  me,  then  I  swore  that  carrion  should  not  taint 
my  whole  life  through.  It  should  not — should  not — 


328          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

for  'twas  fate's  self  had  doomed  me  to  my  ruin.  And 
there  it  lay  until  the  night — for  this  I  planned,  that 
being  of  such  great  strength  for  a  woman,  I  could  bear 
his  body  in  my  arms  to  the  farthest  of  that  labyrinth 
of  cellars  I  had  commanded  to  be  cut  off  from  the 
rest  and  closed.  And  so  I  did  when  all  were  sleeping 
but  you,  poor  Anne — but  you!  And  there  I  laid  him 
and  there  he  lies  to-day — an  evil  thing  turned  to  a 
handful  of  dust." 

"It  was  not  murder,"  whispered  Anne.  "No,  it  was 
not."  She  lifted  to  her  sister's  gaze  a  quivering  lip. 
"And  yet  once  I  had  loved  him — years  I  had  loved 
him,"  she  said,  whispering  still.  "And  in  a  woman 
there  is  ever  somewhat  that  the  mother  creature  feels." 
The  hand  which  held  her  sister's  shook  as  with  an 
ague  and  her  poor  lips  quivered.  "Sister,  I — saw 
him  again!" 

The  Duchess  drew  closer  as  she  gasped :    "Again !" 

"I  could  not  rest,"  the  poor  voice  said.  "He  had 
been  so  base,  he  was  so  beautiful,  and  so  unworthy 
love — and  he  was  dead,  none  knowing,  untouched  by 
any  hand  that  even  pitied  him  that  he  was  so  base  a 
thing — for  that  indeed  is  piteous  when  death  comes 
and  none  can  be  repentant.  And  he  lay  so  hard;  so 
hard  upon  the  stones." 

Her  teeth  were  chattering,  and  with  a  breath  drawn 
like  a  wild  sob  of  terror  the  Duchess  threw  her  arm 
about  her  and  drew  her  nearer. 

"Sweet  Anne,"  she  shuddered.  "Sweet  Anne — 
come  back;  you  wander!" 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          329 

"Nay,  'tis  not  wandering,"  Anne  said.  "  Tis  true, 
sister.  There  is  no  night  these  years  gone  by  I  have 
not  remembered  it  again — and  seen.  In  the  night  after 
that  you  bore  him  there — I  prayed  until  the  mid 
hours  when  all  were  sleeping  fast — and  then  I 
stole  down — in  my  bare  feet  that  none  could  hear 
me — and  at  last  I  found  my  way  in  the  black  dark 
— feeling  the  walls  until  I  reached  that  farthest 
door  in  the  stone — and  then  I  lighted  my  taper  and 
oped  it." 

"Anne!"  cried  the  Duchess.  "Anne,  look  through 
the  tower  window  at  the  blueness  of  the  sky — at  the 
blueness,  Anne!"  but  drops  of  cold  water  had  started 
out  and  stood  upon  her  brow. 

"He  lay  there  in  his  grave — it  was  a  little  black 
place  with  its  stone  walls — his  fair  locks  were  tum- 
bled" —  Anne  went  on  whispering  —  "the  spot  was 
black  upon  his  brow — and  methought  he  had  stopped 
mocking  and  surely  looked  upon  some  great  and  awful 
thing  which  asked  of  him  a  question.  I  knelt  and 
laid  his  curls  straight  and  his  hands,  and  tried  to  shut 
his  eyes,  but  close  they  would  not,  but  stared  at  that 
which  questioned.  And  having  loved  him  so,  I  kissed 
his  poor  cheek  as  his  mother  might  have  done — that 
he  might  not  stand  outside  having  carried  not  one 
tender  human  thought  with  him.  And,  oh,  I  prayed, 
sister,  I  prayed  for  his  poor  soul  with  all  my  own. 
'If  there  is  one  noble  or  gentle  thing  he  has  ever 
done  through  all  his  life,'  I  prayed,  'Jesus,  remem- 
ber it — Christ,  do  not  forget!  We  who  are  human 


330         A   LADY  OF   QUALITY 

do  so  few  things  that  are  noble.  Oh,  surely  one 
must  count." 

The  Duchess's  head  lay  near  her  sister's  breast,  and 
she  had  fallen  a-sobbing — a-sobbing  and  weeping  like 
a  young,  broken  child. 

"Oh,  brave  and  noble,  pitiful,  strong,  fair  soul!" 
she  cried.  "As  Christ  loved  you  have  loved,  and  He 
would  hear  your  praying.  Since  you  so  pleaded,  He 
would  find  one  thing  to  hang  His  mercy  on." 

She  lifted  her  fair,  tear-streaming  face,  clasping  her 
hands  as  one  praying. 

"And  I — and  I,"  she  cried,  "have  I  not  built  a  tem- 
ple on  his  grave?  Have  I  not  tried  to  live  a  fair  life 
and  be  as  Christ  bade  me?  Have  I  not  loved  and 
pitied  and  succored  those  in  pain?  Have  I  not  filled 
a  great  man's  days  with  bliss  and  love  and  wifely  wor- 
ship? Have  I  not  given  him  noble  children,  bred  in 
high  lovingness  and  taught  to  love  all  things  God 
made,  even  the  very  beasts  that  perish,  since  they  too 
suffer  as  all  do?  Have  I  left  aught  undone?  Oh, 
sister,  I  have  so  prayed  that  I  left  naught.  Even 
though  I  could  not  believe  that  there  was  One  who, 
ruling  all,  could  yet  be  pitiless  as  He  is  to  some,  I 
have  prayed  that — which  sure  it  seems  must  be,  though 
we  comprehend  it  not — to  teach  me  faith  in  some- 
thing greater  than  my  poor  self  and  not  of  earth. 
Say  this  to  Christ's  self  when  you  are  face  to  face — 
say  this  to  Him,  I  pray  you.  Anne,  Anne,  look  not 
so  strangely  through  the  window  at  the  blueness  of 
the  sky,  sweet  soul,  but  look  at  me." 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          331 

For  Anne  lay  upon  her  pillow  so  smiling  that  'twas 
a  strange  thing  to  behold.  It  seemed  as  she  were  smil- 
ing at  the  whiteness  of  the  doves  against  the  blue.  A 
moment  her  sister  stood  up  watching  her,  and  then 
she  stirred,  meaning  to  go  to  call  one  of  the  servants 
waiting  outside,  but  though  she  moved  not  her  gaze 
from  the  tower  window,  Mistress  Anne  faintly  spoke. 

"Nay— stay,"  she  breathed.     "I  go— softly— stay." 

Clorinda  fell  upon  her  knees  again  and  bent  her  lips 
close  to  her  ear.  This  was  death,  and  yet  she  feared 
it  not — this  was  the  passing  of  a  so.ul,  and  while  it 
went  it  seemed  so  fair  and  loving  a  thing  that  she 
could  ask  it  her  last  question — her  greatest — know- 
ing it  was  so  near  to  God  that  its  answer  must  be 
rest. 

"Anne,  Anne,"  she  whispered,  "must  he  know,  my 
Gerald?  Must  I — must  I  tell  him  all?  If  so  I  must, 
I  will — upon  my  knees." 

The  doves  came  flying  downward  from  the  blue, 
and  lighted  on  the  window-stone  and  cooed.  Anne's 
answer  was  as  low  as  her  soft  breath,  and  her  still 
eyes  were  filled  with  that  she  saw,  but  which  another 
could  not. 

"Nay,"  she  breathed.  "Tell  him  not.  What  need- 
wait,  and  let  God  tell  hint — who  understands." 

Then  did  her  soft  breath  stop  and  she  lay  still,  her 
eyes  yet  open  and  smiling  at  the  blossoms,  and  the 
doves  who  sat  upon  the  window-ledge  and  lowly  cooed 
and  cooed. 


332          A   LADY   OF   QUALITY 

'Twas  her  duchess  sister  who  clad  her  for  her  last 
sleeping  and  made  her  chamber  fair.  The  hand  of 
no  other  touched  her,  and  while  'twas  done  the  tower 
chamber  was  full  of  the  golden  sunshine,  and  the  doves 
ceased  not  to  flutter  about  the  window  and  coo  as  if 
they  spoke  lovingly  to  each  other  of  what  lay  within 
the  room.  Then  the  children  came  to  look,  their  arms 
full  of  blossoms  and  flowering  sprays.  They  had  been 
told  only  fair  things  of  death,  and  knowing  but  these 
fair  things,  thought  of  it  but  as  the  opening  of  a 
golden  door.  They  entered  softly  as  entering  the 
chamber  of  a  king,  and  moving  tenderly,  with 
low  and  gentle  speech,  spread  all  their  flowers 
about  the  bed,  laying  them  round  her  head,  on  her 
breast,  and  in  her  hands,  and  strewing  them  thick 
everywhere. 

"She  lies  in  a  bower  and  smiles  at  us,"  one  said. 
"She  hath  grown  beautiful  like  you,  mother,  and  her 
face  seems  in  some  way  like  a  white  star  in  the 
morning." 

"She  loves  us  as  she  ever  did,"  the  fair  child 
Daphne  said;  "she  will  never  cease  to  love  us,  and 
will  be  our  angel.  Now  have  we  an  angel  of  our 
own." 

When  the  Duke  returned,  who  had  been  absent  since 
the  day  before,  the  Duchess  led  him  to  the  tower  cham- 
ber, and  they  stood  together  hand  in  hand,  and  gazed 
at  her  peace. 

"Gerald,"  the  Duchess  said,  in  her  tender  voice, 
"she  smiles,  does  not  she?" 


A   LADY   OF   QUALITY          333 

"Yes,"  was  Osmonde's  answer.  "Yes,  love,  as  if 
at  God,  who  has  smiled  at  herself — faithful,  tender 
woman  heart!" 

The  hand  which  he  held  in  his  clasp  clung  closer. 
The  other  crept  to  his  shoulder  and  lay  there  trem- 
bling. 

"How  faithful  and  how  tender,  my  Gerald,"  Clo- 
rinda  said,  "I  only  know;  she  is  my  saint  —  sweet 
Anne,  whom  I  dared  treat  so  lightly  in  my  poor,  way- 
ward days.  Gerald,  she  knows  all  my  sins,  and 
to-day  she  has  carried  them  in  her  pure  hands  to 
God  and  asked  His  mercy  on  them.  She  had  none  of 
her  own. 

"And  so  having  done,  dear  heart,  she  lies  amid  her 
flowers  and  smiles."  And  he  drew  her  white  hand  to 
press  it  against  his  breast. 

While  her  body  slept  beneath  soft  turf  and  flowers, 
and  that  which  was  herself  was  given  in  God's  heaven 
all  joys  for  which  her  earthly  being  had  yearned,  even 
when  unknowing  how  to  name  its  longing,  each  year 
that  had  passed  made  more  complete  and  splendid  the 
lives  of  those  she  so  had  loved.  Never,  'twas  said, 
had  woman  done  such  deeds  of  gentleness  and  shown 
so  sweet  and  generous  a  wisdom  as  the  great  Duchess. 
None  who  were  weak  were  in  danger  if  she  used  her 
strength  to  aid  them;  no  man  or  woman  was  a  lost 
thing  whom  she  tried  to  save ;  such  tasks  she  set  her- 
self as  no  lady  had  ever  done  before,  but  'twas  not 
her  way  to  fail — her  will  being  so  powerful,  her  brain 


334         A   LADY  OF  QUALITY 

so  clear,  her  heart  so  purely  noble.  Pauper  and  prince, 
noble  and  hind,  honored  her  and  her  lord  alike,  .and 
all  felt  wonder  at  their  happiness.  It  seemed  that  they 
had  learned  life's  meaning  and  the  honoring  of  love, 
and  this  they  taught  to  their  children,  to  the  enrich- 
ing of  a  long  and  noble  line.  In  the  ripeness  of  years 
they  passed  from  earth  in  as  beauteous  peace  as  the 
sun  sets,  and  upon  a  tablet  above  their  resting-place 
there  are  inscribed  lines  like  these: 

"Here  sleeps  by  her  husband  the  purest  and  noblest 
lady  God  e'er  loved,  yet  the  high  and  gentle  deeds  of 
her  chaste,  sweet  life  sleep  not,  but  live  and  grow, 
and  so  will  do  so  long  as  earth  is  earth." 

THE   END 


FRANCES    HODGSON    BURNETT 

Frances  Eliza  Hodgson  was  born  in  1849  at  Manchester, 
England,  and  at  the  close  of  the  American  Civil  War  came 
to  the  United  States  and  lived  in  Tennessee  until  her  mar- 
riage with  Dr.  L.  M.  Burnett  in  1873.  IH  J^P^  sne  divorced 
Dr.  Burnett  and  married  Mr.  Stephen  Townsend.  Her 
homes  are  in  Washington  and  in  Europe.  Her  first  notice- 
able story  appeared  in  "Scribner's  Magazine"  in  1872,  and 
the  one  that  established  her  reputation  was  "That  Lass  o' 
Lowrie's"  1877.  Hgr  other  stories  are  as  follows:  "Surly 
Tim  and  Other  Stories"  "Haworth's,"  "Louisiana,"  "A  Fair 
Barbarian,"  "Through  One  Administration,"  "Little  Lord 
Fauntleroy"  "Sara  Crewe"  "Little  Saint  Elizabeth,"  "The 
Pretty  Sister  of  Jose,"  "A  Lady  of  Quality,"  "His  Grace 
of  Osmonde,"  "The  Captain's  Youngest,"  "In  Connection 
with  the  De  Willoughby  Claim,"  "The  Making  of  a  Mar- 
chioness," and  "The  Little  Unfairy  Princess." 

Of  plays  she  has  written,  besides  "Esmcralda,"  in  col- 
laboration with  Mr.  W-  H.  Gillette,  the  following:  "Phyl- 
lis," "The  Showman's  Daughter,"  "The  First  Gentleman  of 
Europe,"  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,"  which  has  brought  its  au- 
thor over  $100,000,  and,  in  collaboration  with  Mr.  Townsend, 

33S 


"Nixie"  and  "A  Lady  of  Quality,"  in  the  latter  of  which 
plays  Miss  Julia  Arthur  made  a  great  success  as  the  heroine. 
Mrs.  Townsend  is  especially  interested  in  children,  and 
has  not  only  written  many  charming  stories  to  entertain 
them,  such  as  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,"  "Editha's  Burglar" 
etc.,  but  in  many  other  ways  has  done  much  to  improve 
their  lot. 


336 


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